


Theories vs Results and Happy Endings

by GizmoTrinket



Series: 2017 New Content Angst Before We Even Have the New Content  'verse [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Exposition, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sherlock, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock (TV) Season/Series 04 Fix-it, Trans Character, entire series is more like a post TAB fix-it, this one kinda got away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GizmoTrinket/pseuds/GizmoTrinket
Summary: The last of this series: a multi chapter fic. If you want to know the ending (spoilers in the tags and the title) I'm putting the smut in every other chapter (chapter 2, 4 etc.) so you can find out but avoid uncomfortable situations. This'll make some chapters long and others short. If that's not ok find me on fanfiction.net same username to find the non smutty story.





	1. The Exposition

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read not britpick'd but ya'll already knew that. I printed this out and edited it _on paper_! *gasp*  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the other parts of the series first!! I added Mycroft's POV to cut back on the chapter count. Plus, less exposition.

Sherlock balanced Rosie in one arm while he poked his brother with his cane-sword.

"Stop it." John admonished.

Sherlock sighed but desisted. He checked his phone with one hand; then wiped a few blonde curls from Rosie's forehead when he had no new texts.

John sighed. "Sit. Your pacing is making me anxious."

"Rosie likes it." The brunette replied. It was true, but in reality he was too keyed up to sit. He hadn't noticed he was pacing again. The pacing always bothered John and he tried not to do it unless necessary.

"I know you're worried about your brother-"

Sherlock made a rude noise.

"-but," John continued as if Sherlock hadn't interrupted, "being manic when he wakes up won't help. He'll think something's wrong and-"

"Of course something's wrong!"

"A couple of bruises are not-"

Sherlock couldn't stop even though John was starting to get angry. "He was supposed to keep her _safe_ John! If she's not safe with Mycroft she's not safe anywhere!"

"Stop interrupting me!" John shouted back. "He protected her with his life, Sherlock! _Mycroft_ protected _my_ daughter. Just think about that."

The taller man could see that his brother was stirring but he didn't want to give in. "You see but do not observe. Mycroft was only acting on my orders. He was doing it in exchange for my assistance. If Rosie was harmed he wouldn't have lived anyway."

"Oh my god..." The doctor shook his head. "How can you be so bloody smart and stupid at the same time?!"

Sherlock felt his face move into the unflattering expression John was fond of teasing him about (before Mary died) when he'd called Sherlock a drama queen. He willed his features back to something more neutral.

"He's right, brother mine."

John went into doctor mode and Sherlock rolled his eyes. Of course Mycroft would wait until he lost the argument to fully awaken. Stupid git was getting better at acting drugged.

Sherlock made a mental note to drug him again to note differences.

"No." John said.

"What?" Mycroft and Sherlock asked at the same time. Mycroft's tone was the polite confusion one might use with a toddler who just learned to speak. Sherlock's was feigned innocence.

John gave the consulting detective a flat look and ignored Mycroft. "I know what happens when you make that face Sherlock. And no."

Sherlock gave John the huff that said he would acquiesce but wasn't happy about it. Hopefully by now John knew that Sherlock's huff also held the endearment that he was only doing this because he loved the blond so much.

Although, maybe it was better that he didn't. Sherlock knew that John must understand the consulting detective was gay... After Harry's outburst it would be hard not to. But John always insisted that he wasn't. That he would never be was strongly implied.

If that implication ever was stated outright Sherlock wasn't sure how he would handle it. For the past seven years he'd been living on (what he knew after John's wedding was fruitless) hope. But, as long as there was a chance, however slim...

"Hey." John gently pulled the brunette from his thoughts.

Sherlock hadn't realized he had gone into his mind palace, remembering every small detail that had given him hope. He was embarrassed but Mycroft didn't look smug, just tired. Sherlock pulled the cane-sword from where he left it against Mycroft's bed. "Here." Sherlock thrust it into Mycroft's face.

Mycroft flinched, expecting to be hit with it. But when he realized it was a gift, of sorts, (2.4 seconds longer than it should have taken) he smiled. It wasn't the sour lemon look he got when he was being a smarmy git. It was the smile Sherlock hadn't seen since before Mycroft went off to boarding school and went on a diet. It was genuine happiness. He took the end of the weapon, but didn't have the strength to hold it and Sherlock had to help him move it to the side of his bed. "Thank you." Mycroft said.

There was no subtle reminder of Mycroft's influence in Sherlock's life. The 'brother dear' comment was a reference to Bernice Friesen's short story of the same name. Mycroft had been instrumental in allowing Sherlock the freedom to make his own profession, to force the Yard to recognise his usefulness and John. Sherlock had heard the recordings of Anthea's/Moran's confession.

"You're welcome." Sherlock picked up John's old aluminium cane and turned before Mycroft could see the chin wobble. It was solely due to the stress of managing a baby and an injured leg on no painkillers but the elder brother would assume it was sentiment.

The blond patted Sherlock's hip with a smile and Sherlock fled, less graceful than usual, to get a nurse to help John back into his room so he could finally be discharged.

\----

John _insisted_ that Rosie always sleep in her cot. Sherlock hated John and Mary's place so he took the initiative to move everything into 221B. Rosie's cot was in Sherlock's room, it would be idiotic to place her up a flight of stairs with John while he was injured. Sherlock had long since fixed the fire-escape issue and it was the second safest room in the flat (after John's, of course). Sherlock would never separate John from his daughter so Sherlock had movers take everything that belonged to his flatmate (not ex-flatmate, never again) and bring it with Rosie's belongings.

A confidential file was delivered to 221B the day before John was to be released from the hospital. Sherlock had just finished tending to Rosamund's morning needs when Mrs. Hudson brought it up.

"I'm not a messenger, you know."

"Of course, just like you're not my housekeeper." Sherlock winced at how harsh that sounded but Hudders just tutted fondly and left. He smiled; she always understood what he actually meant.

Sherlock took advantage of the empty flat to zero in on the file.

\----

"I was expecting you to be at- Oh, have you got a case?"

Sherlock's head snapped up. "John?" Was it that late already? Based on the soreness in his arm that was a definite yes.

"You know it's better for her if she sleeps somewhere other than your arms, right?"

He stood up and caught himself before the pins and needles in his legs forced him back down. The cane had its uses. Once Sherlock was sure he could walk he set Rosie in her cot and carried the baby monitor back.

John was looking though the file's contents, his face ashen.

Too late Sherlock realized John hadn't heard the tapes.

"She didn't change." John shook his head, his face never leaving the text. "She never gave it up. All those times she sent us off on cases... Oh god, even when she was pregnant..."

"She did change, John." He approached slowly, like one would a wounded animal. "She loved you. And Rosie."

"Then why...?"

Sherlock understood, he'd read the file. Mary took on local contracts, a mobster here, a corrupt politician there. Things that if Mycroft heard about he wouldn't interfere with. "She's like me."

"You're not a murderer!" John turned, his fists balled in anger.

Sherlock put his free hand up in a placating gesture. "I am. And so are you." John relaxed after a moment of thought (Magnussen and the cabbie) so the brunette continued, "I replaced my addiction to drugs with solving puzzles, you replaced the adrenaline you got from war with fighting crime. She replaced her addiction with something more..." The brunette searched for an accurate word but couldn't find one. "'good.'"

The misunderstanding was clear when John looked down and hid his eyes.

"That was you. You bring out the best in people, John. I fought for the side of the angels because of you." Sherlock internally winced at the reference but John didn't seem to notice. He didn't know. Mycroft must not have released that recording. "Mary did the same."

John buried his face in his hands, winced when he realized he couldn't move his left and rubbed his eyes with his right. The older of the two took a deep shaky breath and wiped his eyes with the other side of his right hand.

"Painkiller?" Sherlock offered as an out.

John took a moment before he glanced at Sherlock's phone. "Not yet, two more hours."

"Right." Sherlock wasn't sure what to do. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, he couldn't pace while John was already upset.

The doctor stood up. "I should take Rosie home. She'll need a proper kip in her cot if you've been keeping her in... What have you been keeping her in? Not your bed, right?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Her cot is in my room."

"What?"

"You can't properly care for her alone so I had some movers take everything here." Sherlock explained.

"You can't just kidnap my daughter!"

"I didn't."

"And you can't have homeless drug addicts moving a baby's things!"

The taller man sighed. "Obviously. I hired proper movers for both Rosie and your belongings."

John gave Sherlock his, 'I can't believe you are this stupid, what the bloody hell were you thinking you utter cock' face.

Sherlock hated that face.

He realized he'd done something 'A Bit Not Good' and he resigned himself to a domestic.

\----

Sherlock's leg healed before John's arm did; not all that surprising when John kept using it instead of keeping it in the sling.

"John! Let me take care of Rosie, you need to rest or you'll end up with a tremor that won't go away this time." Sherlock scolded and took John's daughter from him. She squawked in protest but quieted when Sherlock took the bottle from John and started to feed her.

Mycroft interrupted this chapter in their ongoing argument by simply entering the room. He'd been there earlier to interview them on any details he didn't have from the cameras he had in 221B. Sherlock had thrown the cane sword down the stairs when John became visibly upset. Neither sibling said anything at the time but Sherlock noted that Mycroft was still using it; it had replaced his signature umbrella. Probably because it was the hidden weapon he'd desired since he won the regional fencing competition. The consulting detective wondered if it would continue to stay with Mycroft once the irritating man was fully healed. Sherlock noted that he found that notion emotionally fulfilling. A lot of the resentment the younger brother felt evaporated when the elder was willing to die for John's daughter.

Sherlock was both relieved and annoyed at his brother's timely entrance. "What do you want?" He snapped.

"I have all the information on The Incident." Mycroft said. Several agents carrying boxes entered the flat.

John frowned at the men.

Sherlock knew John hated anyone in Mycroft's employ coming near his daughter. The consulting detective trusted the agents now that Mycroft was using males rather than females as his underlings but didn't know how to explain that to his flatmate without referencing the Uncomfortable Hospital Incident.

"I'll leave you both to it." Sherlock heard Mycroft say and listened until everyone left before turning to the files.

\----

Those files contained _everything_. John refused to read them, only requested that Sherlock share any information that confused him or might come back to haunt them. The brunette had started with Mycroft's personal files so he readily agreed, happy to keep the elder brother's personal notes away from John's eyes.

_"Sherlock is incapable of making friends and Dr. Stamford is misguided in his belief that Sherlock cares about him beyond the access he provides to the hospital's lab. I suspect the relationship will end when my brother finds someone more useful. However Dr. Stamford does not have the temperament to hold anything my brother says or does against him and is therefore not a threat."_

Mycroft's notes after interviewing John were far worse: _"Obvious why my brother is infatuated with him. Clearly his daddy issues and military kink could be satisfied by Dr. Watson but I doubt my brother would act on his desires after "The Major" and Victor incidents. Since Dr. Watson is currently incapable of a romantic relationship with another man the only threat he poses would be if Sherlock fell in love with him."_

\----

_"Why, if my things are in my room, is my daughter in yours?"_

_"Please, John, obviously you can't be trusted to navigate a staircase with Rosie when you don't have use of both arms. I also require less sleep then you, and you become violent when you're woken by someone entering your room."_

_"Because you were trying to experiment on me you cock!"_

_Technically the third, and last, time was to experiment on himself; he wanted to see if he was capable of sleeping next to John. But, John rarely understood the difference between 'experiment on' and 'experiment with' so Sherlock didn't argue that point. "Also, it would be cruel to make Mrs. Hudson climb another set of stairs when she needs to babysit."_

_John threw his hands up in surrender._

As Sherlock remembered what had been downgraded from a domestic to a tense conversation due to John being unnaturally reasonable he noted that John still claimed the upstairs room as his, that he didn't say 'the upstairs bedroom' or any variation.

Unfortunately Mycroft's personal files were no more forthcoming about the doctor's relationship history than the any other document Sherlock had managed to procure. The brunette knew that Sholto had been in love with the shorter blond and the two had become quite close but nothing sexual ever happened.

The consulting detective agreed with his brother that sentiment clouded judgement but John hadn't confessed his love again since he'd learned that Mary was dead.

Sherlock realized he'd never said it back.

Confused, he walked to the kitchen to get his laptop. John's was closer but if the genius forgot the clear the browser history again this might have worse consequences than John cancelling orders of various bacteria samples.

\----

"So, what do I need to know?" John hadn't asked for longer than expected. The returned Army Captain's arm was mostly healed and he'd avoided getting a tremor. John had trouble lifting his arm when he was thinking about it and even more trouble sleeping on his left side. Sherlock had tried to start this conversation several times only to have John brush him off with excuses like, _"There's not enough time right now."_ or _"Is it dangerous to Rosie? No? Then I'm too tired to care."_

Sherlock knew it'd be more than 'A Bit Not Good' to hide any important detail (Mycroft's opinions did not qualify), no matter how insulting or embarrassing to either of them. The consulting detective explained how he'd read John's blog entry on their first case and considered him a suspect. How he'd manipulated Mike into arranging a meeting. How Sherlock realized that John had nothing to do with the murders and was interesting. "I decided to trust you with everything after you shot the cabbie for me." Sherlock left out the fact that he referred to his heart more than his life. John probably wouldn't understand what he'd meant but it was as close to a confession as he felt comfortable with while John was working through his wife's death.

The taller man played the tapes Mycroft made for John. He answered all John's questions. Then Sherlock talked about how Mycroft wanted John both in Sherlock's life and the bureaucrat's bed. "I put a stop to that though." Sherlock made sure to say. "You aren't gay and I wasn't having him pressure you into anything." The younger read the irritation in John's face so he continued. "He'd done it before... Pressured people I was close with into his bed." Sherlock admitted with no small amount of shame. Victor had been loyal, his boxing teacher not so much. But Victor's father hadn't even put up a token resistance. Sherlock understood why outing him in front of his wife and kids the first time Victor had brought Sherlock home was 'A Bit Not Good' after John explained the 'Christmas Present Incident' with Molly to him. The brunette had thought the package was for Lestrade but he never got around to explaining that to the blond and later forgot with the mystery that The Woman's phone presented. Sherlock didn't say any of this aloud and just fell into silence.

John decided that was a good time to make some tea and Sherlock gathered his thoughts while the water boiled.

Once John put Sherlock's cup on the coffee table in front of him and settled into his red chair Sherlock continued, explaining how Moriarty's focus had shifted from the doctor after Sherlock proved to be more interesting. How Moriarty was born Mitchell Steward, he'd recreated himself as he climbed through the ranks of the organization known as Moriarty taking the top spot to rebel against his father and his name. That Janine Hawkins, born May Steward, took over what was left of the organization after Sherlock's housecleaning. When he'd shot Magnussen and Janine had gotten her media fuelled revenge they'd come to an understanding. John was twitchy at the name of Sherlock's fake girlfriend and assuming it was because John didn't approve of using Janine's body to solve the case the brunette added, "I never slept with her." John was clearly confused. "I never had sex with her." Sherlock rephrased. "She tried, far too often, but I wasn't going to touch her until we were married. A handy excuse, if archaic."

John snorted. "You were never seriously engaged even."

Sherlock smiled, "Exactly, John."

The doctor told Sherlock to drink his tea, as talking so long had made his mouth dry and voice scratchy.

"So, the organization, Moriarty, still exists?"

"Yes. But it doesn't have the problematic connections the previous Moriarty had. Janine decided to reorganize into a semi-legal force Mycroft didn't raise many objections to. She'll take secret government contracts: start a coup here, sell some extra weapons there, purposely weaken or strengthen some currency, create some civil unrest or scandal to negate a countries bargaining power in the UN, the sort of things Mycroft would do anyway but doesn't want officially linked back to the country." John looked appalled. "Mary was part of Moriarty. Janine had the same tattoo, a permanent mark of belonging and trust." Sherlock could see that John wanted to ask how the consulting detective knew about Mary's tattoo. Although the taller man knew both women had a secret tattoo when he first deduced them John might ask how Sherlock knew what Mary's mark was so he changed the subject away from the blond's adrenaline fuelled public sex kink. "Mary wanted the quiet life she built with you, you know. When I was sent on that suicide mission-"

"What?!"

"Do keep up, what did you think I'd meant when I'd said we probably wouldn't see each other again on the tarmac?" Sherlock snapped. John looked stricken and the brunette winced. He continued his explanation quickly to distract John from his mistake; Sherlock could see now how the doctor was seeing the slight drug overdose in a different light. "I trusted Mary to keep you safe. Janine said there was a sniper I'd missed hiding in London but I knew that if anyone tried to make a move on you Mary would protect you."

John frowned at the mention of his wife.

"I'm sorry, if it's any consolation. I should have seen that Anthea was a mole. I put too much trust in Mycroft's judgement." Sherlock finished his cold tea and muttered, "My brother forgets he's human."

They both understood that as much as Mycroft tried to live up to his reputation of an emotionless machine and attempted to sculpt the younger into what he dreamt of being the elder's overbearing, mothering, near smothering was how The Ice Man showed he cared.

Rosamund woke; her naps were getting longer much to the relief of both flatmates. Sherlock moved to tend to her more quickly than her father and she was quite content with the attention the brunette lavished on her as he tended to her needs while John watched. Her godfather carried her into the kitchen to make a bottle and he fiddled with the charm on her ankle as he waited for it to reach the proper temperature.

"Sherlock..." John paused, clearly unsure of how to phrase his thoughts.

"I know." The tallest of the three sighed. He was well aware that Rosamund was starting to like him better, that John would leave eventually and it might traumatize her. "She'll be ok though." John looked confused so he continued, "She's strong. How could she not be? You're her father. And I'll back off once you start dating again."

"What?" John was looking at Sherlock like he was the idiot.

Sherlock frowned at him, what part of this was confusing? Rosie was very young and children were surprisingly adaptive.

"Why do you think..." John didn't finish his thought, looking slightly horrified.

"Well, you feel incomplete when you're not in a romantic relationship." Sherlock elaborated.

John's expression twisted more.

Sherlock spelled it out for him. "You're not gay. I'm well aware you were speaking of pragma rather than eros. I doubt you were indicating philia, as I'm the last person anyone would consider good, rational and virtuous."

John was no longer turning green and was looking at Sherlock with the expression he had when Sherlock was missing something obvious. "You realize there are more than two options, right?"

The research he'd done on his laptop had explained everything about the various types of love. "I know; there are seven." Sherlock said as John clearly was being overly stupid. He'd outlined three types of love, even spelling out the last one for his blogger. Sherlock was suddenly struck by the realization that John no longer posted blog entries and John probably didn't consider him his best friend anymore.

"For someone so smart you always manage to shock me with the large gaps you have in common knowledge." John sighed. "And common sense." He murmured as an afterthought.

Sherlock felt the little wrinkle between his eyebrows appear in his irritation.

John opened his mouth but shut it quickly. Sherlock watched John think before deciding on how to approach the conversation. "Your brother, he's not straight."

"Obviously."

"Does he like women?"

Sherlock was uncomfortable talking about his brother's sexual history. "Not as such. He prefers men." The brunette swallowed around a lump in his throat. "Much like you prefer women."

"It's just a societal preference."

"Oh!" Sherlock's eyes widened with the realization. "Oh..." He backed several steps away from his flatmate. He unintentionally entered his mind palace to revaluate every interaction he'd had with his... partner.

He emerged from his thoughts and realized he'd put Rosie back in her cot while on autopilot and John had made tea in the meantime.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." John murmured as he set Sherlock's tea on the far edge of the coffee table.

"It's ok." Sherlock realized the response was inadequate. "I've... No one..." He felt himself frown and chastised himself for his sudden inarticulately. "It's never worked out." He quickly added, "And not just because of Mycroft's meddling."

"Because she faked her death and then died for real?" John said quietly, not looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock had missed something John found obvious again. "What?" The younger growled, irritated that he couldn't follow the conversation once again.

"For christsakes, Sherlock. You know who I'm talking about!" John snapped, finally looking at him.

But, he didn't. John knew that Janine was alive and she'd never faked her death. And he'd stated clearly that relationship was fake. Sherlock had never taken any other woman out for so much as a date or two and those were for cases. Never something John would consider a relationship. And Sherlock knew John had understood when he'd said that women weren't his area. Mycroft noted the only two true relationships the brunette had ever been in; the two people that taught Sherlock how to tell the when people cared or were just using him for one reason or another.

"Aaahhh!" Sherlock's most annoying text alert sound nearly echoed in the quiet and John visibly flinched.

"God! She's alive. That's why you don't know who I'm talking about! You saved her." John ranted and started pacing. "I should have known when Mycroft brought you up when he told me she died!"

Sherlock waited for John to finish. He knew that John wouldn't be able to listen properly when he was so worked up. The younger man just hoped that John wouldn't need one of his walks after he finished his diatribe. Sherlock finally understood all of the conversation and needed to clear up John's misconception before his flatmate decided to shut down and stop any attempt to bring up the conversation again.

"I should have seen it. The posh boy and the dominatrix. Are you just one giant bloody cliché?!"

The taller man balked at the insinuation that he'd ever be so pedestrian as to be a cliché. He realized he had 'Drama Queen Face' again. "For godsakes, John!" He shouted. Not intending to be so loud he controlled his voice so Rosamund wouldn't start crying. "Are you _really_ this blind?!" He hissed. John pursed his lips but Sherlock didn't give him time to respond. "It should be completely obvious, even to you!" John narrowed his eyes and still Sherlock didn't see the light in John's eyes that meant he understood. The doctor was perfectly capable of showing a million emotions at the same time and although he'd closed off after his return John opened up once more when he moved back in.

Sherlock had two options, he could point out each clue, not even subtle: when Mrs. Hudson asked if they'd need two rooms; when Angelo gave them a candle; every time Sherlock never said anything when people assumed they were a couple or on a date and John knew Sherlock always corrected people, even commented that he always had to get the last word; the time when John wanted to go out with that woman from the first surgery, Sari or something, Sherlock asked John out instead (although that one might not count because John seemed to think that _Sherlock,_ the man who could spot every person he walked past that was having an affair, didn't know what a bloody _date_ was!). Even Lestrade, who was nearly worthless as a detective winced at the obvious love confession in his best man's speech (he hadn't actually written that down and never intended to say it, no matter how many times he'd thought it while planning the wedding). And what, exactly, did John think Sherlock had intended to say on the tarmac before being sent to his death?! He'd even said that Sherlock Watson had a nice ring to it!

Sherlock could feel himself flap about as he got more and more worked up. He closed his eyes, having no desire to see John's expression to what he was about to say. Option one wasn't going to work. He stopped pacing, took a deep breath and admitted loudly, "I'm clearly _GAY_ you daft, blind-"

Suddenly he felt arms roughly pull him forward a step. One was flung over his shoulder grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down; the other was wrapped around his side, fingers digging into his back. The brunette opened his eyes and watched as John stood on his toes and forcefully pressed their mouths together.

Sherlock froze. He knew John was suffering because he missed his wife. That both husband and wife loved each other deeply even though relationship was strained. That John had never shown any interest in the taller man before (other than a drunken confession John wouldn't have remembered in the morning or would have pretended he didn't when he woke up on the couch with a splitting headache and hitting on the consulting detective at Angelo's even though later the blond swore he didn't) and that Sherlock was just a rebound. That the shorter man would call it off sooner rather than later. Even if the brunette wasn't simply someone John trusted and subconsciously knew he always had a chance with John would grow tired of Sherlock's inability to be 'Normal.' The younger man knew he could never be what the doctor actually wanted. That John would become frustrated whenever Sherlock was in a slump during which being touched by anyone or anything irritated him. That the consulting detective wouldn't ever go to the store even when they desperately needed uncontaminated milk. That being friends, even best friends and flatmates wasn't the same as being in a romantic relationship.

Right then, in that impossible moment, he didn't care. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the man he'd loved for seven years.

The kiss turned tender, sweet and into everything Sherlock had dreamt of and more.

\----

\---

\----

Mycroft needed to call his brother. He'd just learned that Mary was seen on CCTV outside 221B shortly after John texted her that he'd be late out with a friend. She set up a sniper rifle across the street but when she saw Sherlock was alone she waited. Eventually John arrived drunk and Mary, curious now since John wasn't lying about Mike, entered quietly after to see what would happen. Moran intercepted the message and buried it. (Mycroft had only just unearthed it.) In the end Mary's own weapon was used to kill her.

The younger brother requested _all_ information regarding the incident and although Mycroft didn't see it necessary as the case was closed he realized Sherlock had reasons for doing things that the elder brother didn't understand. Sherlock might not be as socially adept but he was better at picking friends. Even if he did it unintentionally. He was even better at keeping those he cared about safe. How Sherlock managed it Mycroft might never know.

Before dialling Mycroft checked the cameras Sherlock allowed (no audio still) and winced. 'Well,' the minor government official thought 'at least that's _finally_ happening.' He never should have approved that marriage certificate for Mary but Sherlock had called in a favour. Even if he hadn't Mycroft would have approved it anyway because the younger sibling did amazing but stupid things to spite the older brother. He hoped Sherlock presented the gift he had stashed for John properly. It had taken some effort on Mycroft's part and he didn't want the doctor angry at either of them. Mummy would have his head.

Mycroft called the rehab facility instead. They'd been wary of taking in John's sister after the last person they took in for Mycroft. And the one before that. But he assured them she was perfectly normal and wasn't a threat to national security or a Holmes. The updates they provided the official with looked promising but she'd always be a relapse risk. Luckily her liver would heal properly on its own. Mycroft had already changed John's records so it looked like they weren't a match. Harry would be (already was) family but the risk of losing John, no matter how small, was unacceptable. Mycroft was sure he'd be able to find a more suitable donor without putting John's sister in more danger.

He called the facility and left a message for her while she was in therapy so they wouldn't have to speak. "Mission accomplished. Your support is greatly appreciated." Harry wasn't pleased John was going to have _"a successful gay relationship without going through all the shit I had to"_ but Mycroft was sure the pain on both sides was equal. She'd never pined for someone so desperately for seven years. But, if she stayed irrational and held onto the grudge she wouldn't have any real support system. John did wonders for Sherlock. The younger brother wasn't perfect but he'd done far less heroin and cocaine (and morphine and god knows what else) in the past seven years. John didn't deserve Sherlock but he was good for him and youngest Holmes wanted the doctor as much as the doctor wanted him. That was all that really mattered. Harry needed someone in her life. But, Mycroft didn't have many lesbian contacts (bisexual women were out until the elder Watson sibling grew up a little) willing to date someone of Harry's disposition. Only one came to mind. Mycroft smirked; if nothing else it would be an interesting experiment. They'd either kill each other or fall passionately in love. He sent a text.

The paperwork on Mycroft's desk was complete and he had free time but nothing on which to spend it. Seeing as how he couldn't bother his brother, had no desire to see his parents or call an escort just to have some company for dinner he wondered if he could call Lestrade and be professional. 'Probably not.' Mycroft decided. The DCI was lusting over Miss Molly Hooper who, in an interesting turn of events, was making the silver haired fox work hard for her attention. It was amusing and Mycroft wished he could tell someone about it. Normally he'd "update" Sherlock or share a laugh with Anthea. His current assistant both wasn't adept at casual conversation and had gone home.

"Oh, god." Mycroft muttered. "I need _friends_." He felt dirty and decided to skip dinner and have a shower.

 


	2. The Lovebites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 947 words of smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an Explicit Chapter. See end notes for warnings.

++++

"Oh, _fuck_." John whispered when Sherlock momentarily separated their lips to turn his head for a better angle and lean into the kiss.

Sherlock kept his lips closed, pointlessly trying to reign in his enthusiasm. He also forced his hips from pushing against John's warm body exposing just how much the brunette needed the other man: body, heart and soul. Even if only one of the three was obtainable. It would have humiliated Sherlock if John hadn't moved his mouth to the long pale neck that was easier for him to reach and the consulting detective saw how the doctor wasn't hiding just how much he wanted this; his hands roamed as his mouth licked, sucked and bit marks every time he found a spot that made the younger gasp, moan or thrust his hips.

Once Sherlock's jacket found a new home on the floor and top three buttons of Sherlock's shirt were unfastened, the genius had given up trying to hide his desire and biting off whimpers in need John spun them so Sherlock clumsily walked backwards to the open living room door. John slammed it shut, simultaneously biting into a sensitive spot on Sherlock's shoulder and forcing his back against the door with a thud only slightly quieter than the sound of the door's echoing bang.

" _John!_ " Sherlock groaned, his bruised spine sliding down his new found support. He carded his hand through John's short hair before yanking on strands long enough slip not to out of his grip.

John took the hint and moved his mouth back up to Sherlock's. Soon the blond man didn't have to stand on his toes to reach anymore and he took advantage of Sherlock's weakened knees to bite gently on the brunette's lower lip, pulling until his mouth opened. Sherlock was barely able to gasp a breath before John took advantage of his open mouth. His tongue brushed past Sherlock's teeth before circling, teasing, encouraging...

Sherlock thrust his tongue into John's mouth and lost it when John sucked on the tip of his tongue. He growled, grabbed John's hips, using his superior strength to force the smaller man against the door.

"Oh, fuck! Sherl-" John gasped.

As much as Sherlock wanted to hear John say his name a million times in pleasure: in small gasps, in choked exclamations, in pleading demands, in screaming ecstasy and in anything else the brunette had never heard from any of his other lovers Sherlock yanked John's head up with another hair tug and forced their lips together. After a minute of licks, bites and snogging that would make the strongest person's knees weak Sherlock decided John's hips were far too low and the taller man allowed John's strong hand previously pulling his curls to wrap around the back of his head and control the kiss. He moved his large hands to grip John's hips, pulling them away from the door before squeezing and briefly massaging the most desirable arse he'd ever seen.

All of John's breath left through his nose, a puff Sherlock found more erotic than the moan accompanying it. John, clever, brilliant John, told Sherlock what to do next by flinging his other arm over Sherlock's shoulder, taking a handful of product filled hair into his hand and yanking it.

Sherlock's eyes rolled back and he separated their faces to do this properly. He gripped the bottom of John's arse and pulled, lifting until John could wrap his legs around Sherlock's waist. Once John's legs were secure Sherlock curled his large strong hands around his lover's hips so the thumb found a resting place inside of John's iliac crest and the brunette's long fingers dug into the taught muscle behind the ilium. Sherlock tilted his hips and ground John down so the erection the tailored trousers rarely hid slid behind John's perineum and against the seam of John's jeans.

The back of John's head smacked against the door. " _Ohhhhhhh..._ God! _Sherlock...!_ " 

Sherlock felt John wiggle, adjusting his legs to get a tighter grip and his hips to a better angle. John's neck was at the proper height and completely exposed. Sherlock started licking along it, occasionally scraping his teeth trying to find vulnerable erogenous zones. It was beyond simple to know when he did as John would fling his head to expose the area, push Sherlock's head into it to get more pressure and vocalize loudly.

"Oh, oh! Right there! Oh, _Sherl-_ "

At which point Sherlock found if he bit down and sucked savagely while grinding their hips together John would arch his back and bite his lip to hold in a scream.

Once John's neck was covered in magenta love bites John pushed against Sherlock's shoulders and weakly hit him until Sherlock noticed John's distress and stopped.

"John?" Sherlock held John in place but pulled his head away and held his hips still; stopping the repetitive thunking that Sherlock was surprised hadn't alarmed Rosie. Suddenly remembering that John's daughter was in the next room and realizing that Mrs. Hudson's television was so loud he the volume was maxed out made the brunette blush and killed the mood. "Oh! Sorry." He started lowering John.

John was more reluctant in putting his feet on the ground than Sherlock expected and once he spoke Sherlock knew why. "What? Oh!" John glanced at Sherlock's room. "No. I mean, yeah, we should move. But no. If you kept that up we'd both come in our pants like hormonal teenagers."

"So?"

John rolled his eyes. " _So_ , that's not how I want our first time to go."

"You've imagined it? Our first time."

"Oh, god _yes_."

++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: hickeys, frottage and sexual frustration.


	3. The Interruption Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between the two women living at Baker Street the two men have too many interruptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those super short chapters I warned you about between the smut. I feel the story flows nicely whether you read chapter 2 or not. I did make some small changes to the previous chapters so if you want to read a better version to get back in the swing of things you can.

"Yoo-hoo!" Mrs. Hudson knocked and the men sprang apart. She entered and shook her head. "Sorry to interrupt dears but you have clients."

Said clients entered and the consulting detective told them to sit and wait. "I'll be back; I have to tend to our baby." He snapped at the couple when the older woman opened her mouth to raise a fuss at their lack of focus.

Right on cue Rosie started crying.

Sherlock heard John rearranging chairs and scowled. The consulting detective hoped it was something juicy with a chase that would be over quickly. But those were few and far between. Sherlock almost wished the case was too boring to bother with.

Once Sherlock Rosamund was settled Sherlock checked his text.

From: The Woman

_Happy anniversary to you both. Make sure to give him your gift. Now, go have dinner._

Sherlock smiled and wondered if John would protest when Angelo brought a candle this time. After all, the chef would have to remove a  _"Reserved"_ card from the table next to the window this time too.

\----

Two weeks later and nothing had happened aside from an occasional pat to Sherlock's curls when John left for the surgery. Although one time the doctor pecked Sherlock's cheekbone when handing over tea. But they still slept in different bedrooms; there were no snogging sessions on the couch- they hadn't even kissed properly after what Sherlock had dubbed The Door Mishap due to the unfortunate teasing Mrs. Hudson had showered them with afterwards.

The brunette blamed it on the case; it seemed interesting at first but ended up being quite boring and time consuming. They arrived home late and John fell asleep as soon as he removed his shoes. They never had dinner and Sherlock's gift was still hiding under his sock index. Plus, Rosamund took not falling asleep to her lullaby personally and had been a fussy insomniac ever since.

It was maddening.

John still hadn't repeated The Three Words since Mary's death. Sherlock hoped the other man was just waiting for the brunette to take some initiative. The other possibility was that John considered the third most important evening of Sherlock's life a mistake (the first most important being seven years and two weeks ago, January 29th 2010, when John shot the cabbie, agreed to move in and Sherlock fell in love only barely winning over their original meeting) and was just pretending it didn't happen.

If the latter was the case then why was the blond running his hand through the brunette's curls and allowing Sherlock to rest his head on John's lap as they watched a movie?

The stress of not knowing finally became too much. The consulting detective grabbed John's hand in the middle of the current popular movie John insisted the other man watch and took a deep breath: "By the way," he hesitated to bolster his courage, "I love you too."

John's hand stilled.

Sherlock was suddenly sure he'd made a monumental mistake. They must have a 'bromance'; one of those awkward (for idiots) close male friendships that other people mistake for a romantic relationship. He sprung from John's lap.

Unfortunately John had just started moving down and the side of Sherlock's temple collided with the doctor's chin.

"Ow!" They cried in unison. John continued, "Bloody buggering fu-"

He was interrupted by Mrs. Hudson. "Yoo-hoo!" She came in the open door. "I brought up some nibbles. I noticed yesterday when cleaning the fridge that you've not done the shopping in a bit and figured it'd be nice to have a bite." She set the tray on the table and plopped down in-between them on the couch. "Oh, The Princess Bride. This is a classic! I love a good romance. It's a shame it took them so long to come together."

Rosamund chose that moment to start crying and Sherlock left to tend to her. When he returned Mrs. Hudson was leaving and John was flushed tomato red.

"John?"

"Hm?"

The younger of the two arranged his features into the expression that requested an explanation.

The blond replied with the expression that said he'd never repeat what she'd told him.

Sherlock demanded sternly, "John."

Said man angrily replied, "Fine!" He glared while continuing, "I know you've deduced this already and am just torturing me but she said I needed to be nicer to you."

The brunette snorted. "Both ridiculous, I can't read minds and I could never find someone who treats me better than you."

John seemed to find that funny and chucked darkly but Sherlock had no idea why. It was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't read the story end notes below unless you want the ending spoiled. As always: feedback, comments and kudos are welcomed with open arms.  
> BTW, I posted a (better?) version of this story/series w/o the smut over on [FanFiction.net](http://bit.ly/2lJDETA) and a (better?) version with the smut over on [Adult-Fanfiction.org](http://bit.ly/2kqyutV)


	4. Leaning New Things About Your Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1138 words of smut- kinda. Also, if you haven't read Mycroft's POV in chapter one it might be fun for you to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at the end of the chapter so as not to spoil the surprise.

++++

"But that's not what she actually said." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and teased, "You know I'll pester you until I find out."

His flatmate started looking sick.

"John?"

"I think I've had a stroke?" John said, lifting the last syllable as if he were asking a question.

Sherlock frowned. It didn't appear that John was joking and he _was_ a doctor. The older man looked pale and clammy. Sherlock started to worry, "Why?"

"She just told me..." John shook his head. "She said I needed to get over myself and, quote, _"Fuck you into the mattress already."_ Tell me that didn't happen and I've had an aneurysm."

The brunette was relieved. John clearly was fine and just overreacting. "It's not the first time she's told one of my boyfriends to- Mmrph!"

John cut him off with a biting kiss.

Sherlock took several steps backwards to avoid falling as John nearly tackled him.

They spun, fighting for dominance. Kissing, biting, fingers leaving bruises on hips and arms. Hair being yanked and pressure on zips causing discomfort. Sherlock was taller and stronger but John had military training and his leverage was benefited by his short stature.

"Fuck, fuck!" John swore as Sherlock knocked him into the post holding the glass panel separating the kitchen from the living room.

Sherlock nearly growled as he tried to pin John's wrists and found he couldn't manage against the thin wood pillar.

"Bedroom!" John gasped between kisses.

"Yes. Good idea. Smart John. Brilliant John." Sherlock managed to snag the baby monitor before chasing his doctor upstairs.

The couple fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, teeth and elbows.

Sherlock had never felt more alive. "John, John, John, John, John..."

He didn't realize he was speaking out loud until John countered him, "Oh, god, _Sherlock._ "

Hearing his name out of John's mouth in that tone, in this context nearly made Sherlock lose it. He pulled himself up, fighting with his clothes, forgetting that he had to undo the buttons on his cuffs if he wanted to remove his shirt and that shoes had to come off before trousers and pants could.

Luckily John knew all these things and between the two of them Sherlock was finally free of clothing. John was still wearing his vest and pants and suddenly the brunette felt rather self conscious.

But, John was staring at Sherlock's cock with zealous rapture and Sherlock found the attention intriguing. When John licked his lips Sherlock felt his prick bounce, the erection bobbing as he tried to not take matters into his own hand and come all over John's clothing.

John dropped to his knees.

'Or come all over John's face.' The younger of the two mentally added.

John spit in his hand then wrapped it around Sherlock's cock and gave a few tentative pulls.

"God! _Jooohnnn_."

"Jesus, you're sensitive."

It was a comment that would normally embarrass the taller man but John said the words with such envy the brunette didn't care.

"I want to... I need to suck you. Condom! Fuck! We need condoms."

Sherlock realized the problem. John hadn't used condoms since he proposed to Mary. Sherlock hadn't been tested since before his last hook-up and Mary was most certainly cheating on John before they wed. John hadn't been tested either.

"I have some." Sherlock blushed. When John looked relieved and expectant the taller man continued, "Hold on."

"Hurry." John demanded as he removed his vest.

The brunette shook off the distraction that was a topless John, took the other man's dressing gown and ran downstairs. Sherlock opened his beside drawer, moving aside his vibrator and pulling out the lube and a box of condoms. Luckily they weren't expired.

Sherlock hurried back up to John's room, taking the steps three at a time.

The doctor had clearly given head before. After arranging Sherlock on his back atop the bed John climbed between his legs and popped the condom in his mouth. The doctor then slid his mouth down and applied the barrier without help from his hands besides one holding Sherlock's prick steady at the base.

"Oh my _GOD_ John!"

"You're not supposed to do that, really. Your teeth can puncture the condom and-"

Sherlock knew it was rude but he put his hand on John's head and shoved his face down. He really didn't want a sex-ed lesson right now. Besides, the move had been fucking sexy.

John took the hint and ran his tongue from the base of Sherlock's cock up to the tip. A few licks at the glans and Sherlock was moaning loudly. "Look at me." John commanded.

Panting, Sherlock trained his eyes on the blond. John maintained eye contact as he wrapped his hand around the base and took Sherlock's prick into his mouth.

After three inches of slow bobbing torture Sherlock's eyes rolled back and his hand gripped John's hair. He tried not to push down, just guide John's angle and teeth.

John pulled off and Sherlock's eyes met his again. John smiled wickedly and licked Sherlock's slit before sucking hard on the tip of his cock.

"Oh! _Fuck!_ "

Sherlock's eyes were behind his eyelids so he didn't notice John's next move, taking all of Sherlock's six inches into his mouth and swallowing around the part in his throat.

" _Oh,_ FUCK!" The younger man couldn't help screaming, pulling a few strands of John's greying hair out by the roots.

The ex-Army Captain pulled off and smacked the consulting detective on the inside of his thigh. "Watch it!"

"Sorry! God, I just..." Sherlock panted. "Sorry, I was going to come." 'And embarrass myself.' He added mentally. The brunette had half a mind to push John back down and see if he could beat the record for most orgasms in one day he'd set at eighteen.

John seemed to understand. "We'll have time for experiments later." He crawled up Sherlock's body, planting little kisses along the way.

When the blond was sucking on the younger man's collarbone Sherlock got impatient and rolled them over. John allowed it and Sherlock allowed John's hands to roam freely along his back while they kissed.

The kiss was shorter lived than either expected.

"What the _hell?!_ " John growled, pushing Sherlock to the side and positioning the brunette easily despite his protests. "What the fuck is this?!"

Sherlock felt his chin waver. He'd forgotten about those. "I..." The younger man had no idea how to continue. How does one talk about being tortured without killing any chance of the night being ruined sexually with one's lover?

"Sherlock." It was John's turn to demand an answer. But this wasn't fun. This wasn't teasing.

This was painful.

Sherlock picked up his clothes and put them back on. Their romp was over. Nothing would happen now. Maybe never again.

"Sherlock?" John's voice cracked.

++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> safe sex practices, language, mention of sex toys, oral sex, being rough, scars


	5. The Strays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New SFW chapter. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts for this chapter: [OTP Idea #707 “I found this dog/cat outside and it was cold and sad and that just won’t do.”](https://gizmotrinket.tumblr.com/post/156978633207/otp-idea-707) \+ [Your character hasn’t laughed in three years.](https://gizmotrinket.tumblr.com/post/157311473032/revengeofthewritingprompts-your-character-hasnt) Links open to one of my Tumblr pages.

A scream interrupted any further conversation.

"MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock shouted and sprinted down the stairs. 'No, no, no, no, no, no...' He chanted mentally as he tried to find the balance between not falling down the steps and getting to her as fast as he could.

She shrieked again.

The brunette was panicking, running through all the things that could have happened in his mind: Fallen down the stairs. No, there were no other noises. That ruled out shot as well. Of course, the bastard could have used a silencer...

The sounds of distress were coming from inside 221A so Mrs. Hudson was in her flat. The door was closed and Sherlock ran full bore into it, smashing it open.

"What on Earth?" Mrs. Hudson came out of her bathroom, sopping wet with dirt under her nails and flecks of mud on her face. "What did you do to my door young man?!"

The consulting detective was mortified. "You were screaming..."

The older woman smiled warmly. "Oh, _Sherlock._ " She said in an overly saccharine voice.

"Mrs. Hudson?" John arrived late enough to witness a muddy wet French Bulldog exit the bathroom and shake over the back of Mrs. Hudson's dress, causing her to jump and screech. "You little-!" She rounded on the beast and it ran into the back of the flat, shaking against two walls as it went.

"What's going on?" The blond asked.

"Obvious." The taller man waved the question away. It was boring.

John stayed for the answer and Sherlock heard it through the broken door.

"I found this dog outside and it was cold and sad and that just won’t do." Hudders explained.

'Honestly!' The brunette rolled his eyes. 'But then...' he realized '...if she didn't take in strays neither me nor John would be here.' He sighed and took out his phone.

To: Fatty

_Mrs. H needs a new door. -SH_

The phone rang and Sherlock stuffed it between the couch cushions. He knew what would happen next.

The credits rolled; the tall genius had no idea what happened during the movie and couldn't care less. He turned off the DVD player and the television and waited.

Three... two... one...

"Fucking little shit!" John muttered under his breath as he entered the room, carrying a squirming grey dog in his arms.

It fought him, wiggling and flailing in a desperate bid to get free. As soon as the blond kicked the door shut behind him the dog won and the man tried not to drop the little beast too far but still let it go. The dog fell on his side but got up quickly, running around the flat rubbing his dirty wet fur on every piece of furniture.

John left him to it; going to get the only medical kit that the "consulting pain in the arse" hadn't "borrowed" supplies from.

Sherlock allowed the dog to do what he wanted until it until tried to get into his bedroom. "No." He ordered gently but firmly. 

The dog turned and looked at the consulting detective, testing wills.

The brunette raised his eyebrow. As if he couldn't out stubborn a small dog when he could one John Watson.

Any intelligent creature would know it had been beaten and this dog wasn't dumb. He bowed his head and walked a few steps from the forbidden door.

Sherlock squatted down and held out his hand, making each movement slow and graceful. "Come here." He requested soothingly.

The dog did as bid, nose moving wildly the whole way and the consulting detective smiled.

'Yes, this is a very smart dog.' Sherlock thought, lifting the calm animal and carrying him to the bath. "Now, I know you're going to hate this and I understand. But you're filthy and will feel better when I'm done. I promise." The tall man shut the bathroom door. "This is going to be a little scary but it's ok." He set the dog down and turned on the faucet to get the little beast ready for the loud noises the tub's faucet would make.

The small animal fell over as he tried to escape.

"Shhhhhhh..." Sherlock took off his jacket and his shirt. This was going to be rather difficult. "Shhhhhh. It's ok. I'm here." He let the dog sniff his hand again. The dog calmed and his new master set about covering the floor in towels.

"Ok, here comes the tricky part." He turned on the tub and adjusted the water before plugging the drain. Once done there he turned off the sink's tap.

The dog hid behind him the entire time the tub was filling and Sherlock decided the dog would never hold still and be calm if he tried this the traditional way so he removed the rest of his clothing, folded it and set it all on the counter. He climbed in the tub and waited.

Soon the little dog came to sniff the brunette's hand, licking a few drops of water from his finger tips.

Sherlock encouraged this, moving his arm further and further out of the tub and before the dog knew it he was in the tub too. He panicked and wiggled when he crossed over the barrier but the consulting detective soothed him by talking him through it; well aware that it was the tone of his voice and not the words that were calming the animal. Not that it mattered, really.

The dog picked out which shampoo he preferred the smell of (Rosie's) and Sherlock lathered the little beast up. He didn't like the rubbing on his wet fur and the consulting detective knew he didn't have much time before they both lost patience.

Luckily there was no oil or other particularly stubborn substances in his fur. Sherlock lifted the newly white dog, puppy really, out, wrapped a towel around the dog and closed his hands around the puppy's paws to get the water out. The dog was done with this exercise and Sherlock let him run around the bathroom, rolling over on the covered floor and shaking all over the cabinets as Sherlock drained the tub and took a shower.

Sherlock fixed his hair and wrapped a towel around his waist when he was done. The dog started licking the consulting detective's legs and now that the quasi-parent was positive the dog didn't have any fleas, ticks or other parasites that might make Rosie sick he let the little animal follow him into his room.

John was there, changing Rosie's nappy.

Rosie's Godfather wrinkled his nose, he was positive he'd never get used to the smell, he thanked god he'd changed out the bin John bought for something near air tight, and turned to get dressed.

"Sherlock?" Fingers traced over the ugliest scar.

Sherlock spun and jumped back, holding onto his towel so it wouldn't fall.

The doctor's hand was being held in midair. "Sorry, do they hurt?"

Sherlock shook his head. 'Not physically.' He refused to say out loud.

"It's ok, you know."

The brunette rolled his eyes. "Of course they are. Mycroft had his best doctor stitch them up as soon as I was back in the country." He knew it's not what the blond meant but thought this was a better avenue of discussion.

"I didn't... Wait-" John's eyes widened, "you mean to tell me that they were fresh when you came back?"

Not what the consulting detective wanted to talk about. 'Stupid John and his stupid medical training.' Sherlock thought sarcastically. "Yes." He answered calmly.

"When you came back, the day I was at that restaurant? The day I tried to propose to Mary?"

"Obviously." The taller man snapped without real anger.

The shorter of the two looked away. "Sherlock, you... I punched you."

"Yes." The consulting detective wanted this over with as fast as possible. "And nearly broke my nose and tackled me. What's your point?"

"I hit you! God Sherlock, I probably ripped out all your stitches and you didn't even-" John started breathing deeply and sat on the corner of Sherlock's bed. "You didn't scream. You just grunted. I didn't know..."

"I'm aware." Rosamund's Godfather sighed. The dog was sniffing the bin and Rosie's bed, he'd need out soon. "You thought I was off having fun while you were stuck here mourning." Sherlock started getting dressed; vest first this time instead of pants.

John was quiet the entire time the brunette's back was turned and he kept his back to the doctor for as long as possible.

"It's ok."

'It's not.' Sherlock mentally argued. 'I'm different. You're different. I'm hideous now. You won't want me anymore.'

He dithered but decided to put on his red shirt. That meant he needed the socks that matched so-

A rustle.

"What's that?"

Sherlock's move was slower than John's and the blond opened the envelope.

After reading the document he asked for clarification, "Sherlock?"

The dog barked at the door.

The consulting detective went to let the dog into the rest of the flat. "He needs a walk."

"Right." The shorter man nodded. "I'll just take care of that; I need one too."

Sherlock opened his bedside drawer and pulled a lead out of it.

"Why do-" John thought better of the question. "Never mind. I'll be back soon."

The brunette nodded. At least Rosie's father took the gift with him.

"Oh, Sherlock?" John said with the puppy dancing around his legs, wrapping him in the lead. "You can tell me when you're ready, ok? About what happened while you were gone, I mean."

By the time Sherlock nodded John had already freed himself and left.

\----

\---

\----

Mycroft was at a loss. It had been weeks and he was near desperate for human interaction. Sherlock had been useless since his anniversary plans were ruined. The elder sibling wondered what on earth possessed what Sherlock to take that case. Maybe it was because John had no idea the significance of the date? The assistant that allowed the clients through the perimeter was fired and Mycroft had a headache. The best replacement assistant was Irene Adler but her history of blackmail was difficult to look past. She was smart and trouble.

But, work was piling up and there had to be a reason Sherlock decided to save her life. Was it simply because she cared for him as a person or was it because he saw something in her?

Oddly enough Sherlock was a better judge of character, especially when it came to women. Molly Hooper was a gem. She'd just given in yesterday and had her first date with the DCI. The doctor made him work for the kiss she gave him at the end of the night. He was intrigued and smitten and she was excited. She'd set her blog to private and started journaling again. She made plans and was making sure Gregory was worth her time. She was smart and focusing on herself first instead of a relationship.

Mycroft wouldn't ask Sherlock for personnel help no matter how much paperwork piled up. But a Molly Hooper with confidence was a force to be reckoned with. She ran the mortuary at her young age and each person she hired, she fought for, was more than competent and hard working. They never tattled when she bent the rules. They understood Dr. Hooper was on their side when they made mistakes. If she weren't so useful where she was Mycroft would be tempted to hire her as his assistant.

He picked up his phone.

Dialling Molly Hooper...

"Hello?"

"Hello, Dr. Hooper. This is Mycroft Holmes."

"Um, yes. I know. Is Sherlock in trouble?" She sounded professionally concerned.

"Not everything is about my brother Miss Hooper."

"Doctor," she demanded. "Please." She added quickly.

"Of course. Apologies Doctor Hooper."

"It's ok. Really." She paused. "Um, if this isn't about Sherlock then why...?" The doctor trailed off.

"I find myself in the unusual position of requiring your assistance."

"Really?" She sounded wary but intrigued. "Me? I'm sure you have plenty of other people-"

"No." Mycroft put a stop to her downward spiral. "There are few people my brother trusts and are therefore worth my time."

"What?"

The minor government official winced. That could be taken as an insult if she insinuated that her worth was only determined by Sherlock's attention. "I've been watching your interactions with DCI Lestrade and wish to congratulate you on choosing someone worth your time." 'Oh, god. I really am an idiot. Why is she so hard to talk to?' Mycroft had never spoken more than a few words to the woman and never on something personal.

"What do you want Mycroft?" She spat the words at him.

Which he more than deserved. "I need your opinion on hiring a new assistant."

"Oh." The doctor sounded mollified. "Well, I mean, I dated Moriarty so I don't think I'm really-"

"You paid him no mind and convinced him to watch Glee. He was simply a means to make my brother jealous. It would have worked if he were interested in your sex." He winced at his words. "I find your professional hiring record far more relevant than your personal life."

"You brought my personal life up first."

Mycroft sighed. He needed to unload on someone and he found her surprisingly easy to trust. Sherlock had talked to her several times about his problems with John and the elder brother finally understood why. "Apologies. I have... feelings for Gregory and it's rather difficult to-"

"Have feelings for someone who can't be interested in you? Yeah." Instead of sounding angry she sounded empathetic. "I know how that feels." She sighed. "It gets easier, you know. With time."

"It has been over a decade Miss-" Mycroft caught himself. "Apologies, Doctor Hooper. I admire your strength."

"Well, I knew that he was in love with John. I just didn't want to admit it." She sounded meek and it didn't suit her. "He just kept stringing me along."

"Yes, my brother can be a manipulative prick when he wishes."

She laughed and it wasn't bitter.

"He's my parent's favourite, you know. Plays up his status as youngest."

"You're not as scary as you like to act, are you?"

That irritated the powerful man. "Don't misunderstand me, Doctor. I can be _terrifying_."

"Oh, I know. But under all that ice you're a big softie." She teased.

Still angry she worked through his armour so easily he repeated his question with more force than he should have. "Will you help me hire a new assistant or not?"

"Sure. But you'll owe me dinner."

"I'm not interested in a relationship Doctor Hooper."

She laughed. "Not a romantic one but I think you need a friend." While Mycroft was stunned silent she continued, "And you can call me Molly. If you'd like."

Mycroft considered her offer. She was lonely too. She had difficulties making friends with her demanding job. She'd understand if he needed to cancel plans and he had no issues with her doing the same. "Well, Molly, I believe I can more than fulfil my end of the agreement." He was already looking through his appointment book. "Will this Sunday suffice?"

Molly sounded surprised. "Um, yeah. I think so. Where-"

"I will send a car. Do you have any requests?"

"Please don't take me somewhere too fancy where you don't get any food and everything costs more than my wage."

The minor government official chuckled. Then he started, he didn't remember the last time he expressed amusement. Or felt genuine delight- Especially during a conversation. "Of course, Molly. Are you free to discuss my "applicants" now?"

"I get off in an hour, but I'm free for the rest of the night."

"I'll send a car."

"Don't bring me to an abandoned parking lot or warehouse or something please."

Mycroft laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea I came up with at 4am that Mycroft finds Molly slightly intimidating. It made me laugh. Since she's a BAMF when she's confident I figured, why not?
> 
> As always comments and kudos fuel the fire I need to keep writing. :)


	6. Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another _short_ chapter of smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes. Please remember that these porn chapters can be skipped with no consequences to the plot if something makes you uneasy (I would say uncomfortable but that's rather the point).

++++

\----Flashback----

Sherlock considered how the encounter upstairs could have gone differently while he was in the shower.

_This time pushing against John's head instead of pulling. The blond gagged, fighting Sherlock's hand causing a bobbing swallowing motion that sent Sherlock over the edge. His orgasm was so intense his scream was completely silent._

_John choked and sputtered when he was finally allowed to breathe as Sherlock went boneless. "Fucker." The doctor growled._

_"Shit, sorry. Sorry." Sherlock panted. "Sorry." When he could speak properly he asked, "Are you ok?"_

_"Fine." John spat the word angrily. His voice was hoarse and he was coughing._

_"God, I'm sorry, John." This was not how the consulting detective wanted this encounter to go. He moved  his hands in confusion before setting one on John's right shoulder. The blond leaned into the touch and Sherlock wrapped his arms around his doctor pulling together into a sweaty embrace. Sherlock planted kisses onto every part of John he could reach. "I know how much that hurts, I really am sorry." The consulting detective pulled the condom off, tying a knot to prevent stains._

_John's brow furrowed at the admission._

'No horrible!' Sherlock never wanted to hurt John; unless John wanted a little pain... But past " _adventures_ " should probably be brought up in a different manner.

_Patting John's head to let him know Sherlock was going to come soon. Too soon if he kept it up._

_John, clever John lifted his head away with a slurping noise and the younger of the two had to wrap his fingers around the base of his prick to prevent the eminent orgasm._

_"Don't you have a gag reflex?"_

_John smiled evilly and shook his head._

_Sherlock tightened his fingers._

_"I need you. God John, if we don't do this now I'm not going to-"_

_The blond nodded eagerly and interrupted. "Yes, oh god, yes."_

_Sherlock flipped over, tossing the bottle of lube John had out next to the pillow at his lover. He came to his knees and stuck his ass in the air._

_"Oh... fuck."_

_It wasn't the tone of voice the consulting detective expected. Sherlock was going for breathless eager wonderment not breathless tightly controlled horror. He turned to look, angling his body so John wouldn't have a view anymore. Had he not been clean? He knew he'd depilated yesterday so that wasn't the problem._

_The doctor was sitting up on his knees and manhandled the brunette so he had a good view of his back. "Jesus... Sherlock."_

Sherlock sighed. The first version was better. He'd been in the water too long already by that point and he was worried the dog would start chewing on things if he didn't turn off the shower.

\----End Flashback----

Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, Sherlock wondered if the collar he had would fit the dog too. John hadn't looked intrigued when he saw the lead. Just scared. So that particular kink wouldn't be satisfied until at least the seventh time they had sex and brunette could warm the conservative man to the idea. 'Then again,' Sherlock thought, 'John doesn't have a gag reflex... so it might take less time than I think.' He considered that. 'It's probably just the lead. I imagine the collar would be fine. I can live with that.'

The younger man was interested in trying to take matters into his own hand again and figured John would be gone long enough that he could. Not wanting to masturbate in front of his baby, be caught in John's room or by Mrs. Hudson in the living room Sherlock went into the bathroom and, after a moment of consideration, locked both doors. The door to the bedroom was glass so he'd still be able to hear the infant if she cried.

_It was John's turn to top and he wanted to play. Sherlock was more than amendable. "Come here."_

_John's pet hastened to obey._

_"No." John smacked the riding crop against the bed. "On your knees or I use this on you."_

_'Oh, yes please.' Sherlock thought._

_"Or I can use my cane you little pain slut."_

_Sherlock winced and dropped to his knees. The riding crop was perfect, the cane a little too much. He crawled over to his master._

Or wait? Should he make this a military fantasy? Call John sir? No, this was working. Sherlock dropped to his knees, the hard floor adding to his fantasy.

_He crawled over, resting his head against the inside of John's thigh._

_"Good boy." John ran his fingers through his pet's hair, scratching the scalp gently and causing Sherlock to shiver. "You want your collar?"_

_Sherlock nodded._

_"You'll have to earn it." John kept the button of his jeans fastened but pulled his hard 9 inch prick out of his zip. "Suck."_

_When Sherlock obeyed, licking around the shaft before taking the tip into his mouth, then worked his way down._

_Sherlock's master became harder with the stimulation and grew. "Touch yourself." The blond ordered._

The brunette took fully hard erection out and wrapped his hand around it. He started pulling without bothering to use anything as lube. He wouldn't last long if he was this excited just from his thoughts.

_John grabbed the back of Sherlock's head and forced his erection down his pet's throat._

_The brunette relaxed, lips covering his teeth and concentrated on breathing in between thrusts. Fisting his cock faster as John fucked his mouth. His master changed the angle, rammed him particularly deeply, Sherlock started choking and-_

-came in his hand all over the bathroom floor. He panted for a few seconds before grabbing some toilet paper and cleaning up before any drops could fall on his trousers. Then he used a wet flannel to clean the mess on the tiles.

He put himself away and sat back to rest. It hadn't been perfect and John would never consider whipping him let alone caning him in real life (or maybe even sleeping with him now that the doctor had all those scars) but _god_ that had been good.

++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: light D/s, choking, scar mention, oral sex and masturbation.


	7. Parentage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets the results of the DNA test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get that this is a little bizarre. Don't worry, it gets stranger. Since I don't have a lot of comments or kudos I've decided I'm just writing this for me and I quite like this plot twist. :P

\----John's POV----

When John returned he was damp from rain. He shook out his coat and ran his hand through his hair.

"No fine?" Sherlock must have known the dog was down with Mrs. Hudson.

"Shut it." John blushed at the mention that he'd forgotten baggies. He left the living room to make tea. "You ok?" He called from the other room.

"Why?"

John set the kettle to boil and came back.

"You're a bit red."

The brunette blushed deeper. "Fine, John." He bit the inside of his lips, something the blond found adorable. He'd noticed the consulting detective never had chapped lips like John sometimes did.

"I should-" the both started to say they'd check on the baby and stepping toward Sherlock and Rosie's room. The kettle clicked off, John went to get the tea and the taller man fled.

When Sherlock returned it was with Rosamund in his arms.

'Well,' the shorter man figured, 'might as well get it out of the way.' "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Sherlock." John warned.

The brunette huffed. "I'm not a mind reader, John."

"Why..." The blond felt his hand clench and tried to reign in his temper. "Why did you get those? Those papers?" Mentally he continued, 'Why didn't you show them to me sooner? Why were you hiding them? Did you ever want me to see them?'

"A child should have two parents, just in case. I thought..." he absentmindedly played with Rosie's charm "I thought she'd need another guardian."

"But why Molly?" John asked. _'Why not you?'_

Sherlock looked confused. "Because she's a woman. Obviously."

John sighed. "I already told you I have no issues with you."

"Well that's not true. You hate how I-"

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock, shut up! Stop!" The older of the two demanded. "What will it take? When will you get it through your thick scull that I love _you_? Just you. And just the way you are. Is that such a difficult concept?"

John caught a glimpse of Sherlock's face before he turned and hid it. It was clear that it was more difficult than the doctor could imagine.

'Fine.' The army captain thought. 'I'll just prove it.' He stomped over to the lanky git and threw a punch.

Sherlock leaned into it, body curling around Rosie protectively. "Ungh." He grunted when John's fist connected with his arm.

"See?"

The git drew up to his full height. "See what? What the hell are you doing, John?! You could have hurt-!"

He was interrupted when John grabbed the collar of the tall man's posh shirt and yanked, forcing the brunette to bend over. The shorter man mashed their lips together, careful of their daughter between them.

John reached down to Rosie's head and she gave a startled cry.

As expected, Sherlock freed himself as quickly as he could while maintaining a careful hold on his daughter. "John!" He looked positively scandalized.

John started giggling. When the indignity refused to fade from Sherlock's expression John's giggles evolved into full blown laughter. "Oh, my God! Your face!" The reminder of that case did nothing to sober him. However, the reminder of how short life could be did. John took out the paper and ripped it in half before throwing it into the fireplace.

"John?"

"Where's the other one you git?"

"What?"

John smiled, "The one you got for our anniversary."

The consulting detective brightened. "You remembered?"

"I counted the day after, honestly. Didn't know we were celebrating though. Never did before."

Sherlock made a face.

"Oh." John realized. "You tried, didn't you?"

Sherlock winced. "Only once."

The mood turned sombre. John remembered he'd been so worked up about The Woman he hadn't even noticed. He didn't even remember what Sherlock tried to do that day. If he were to be honest with himself he didn't remember much of what happened before Sherlock faked his suicide. John had tried to block it all out while Sherlock was gone all those years. Then the doctor had Mary. John figured Sherlock wouldn't have tried when Mary was there. Would he?

 It seemed far too insensitive a question for John to ask. Thankfully Rosie saved her father by crying.

"Have you fed her?" John asked at the same time Sherlock said, "She's hungry."

John knew Sherlock had charts and notes stashed everywhere noting everything about Rosamund; what each cry meant, her weight taken every day when she woke after her nappy change while her bottle heated, which formula she preferred when (and the various cries that each corresponded to, that one was still ongoing), which shampoo she liked best (they now had seventy-four bottles of hypo-allergenic unscented baby shampoo in various brands and would have more had John not put his foot down) and Rosie's reactions to everyone she met. The blond knew the baby liked Sherlock more. It probably should have bothered him but it didn't. John knew Rosie slept in Sherlock's room because Sherlock couldn't stand to be away from her. The two had formed some sort of bond; as if Sherlock were her real father. So, while Sherlock was preparing a bottle and talking to Rosie in his rumbling baritone about how she was lucky to have John for a father John left the flat again.

Contrary to popular belief John wasn't an idiot. He was just always compared to people who were superhuman. John knew he was decently smart because he was a doctor. Plus, if he wasn't Sherlock wouldn't bother with him. At first John thought the brunette just liked the attention but when Sherlock came back Anderson had a near meltdown, calling him repeatedly. Eventually the man came to John to get the restraining order lifted. John wasn't in a friendly mood then and he'd slammed the door in Anderson's face. But now John understood that it wasn't just John's compliments Sherlock liked.

It was still raining so John ducked into Speedy's. He pulled out his mobile and dialled. "Hello? Mycroft? Yes, I've got it."

\----

_'Where did he get off? Where did that prick get off getting me papers to have Molly be Rosie's legal guardian?' John didn't want to take the papers out again and risk losing them to water damage. Because it wasn't a horrible idea. Sure, the baptism ceremony was nice but naming someone a godparent wasn't the same as filling out legal paperwork._

_'But, why Molly?' John knew the only way he'd get an answer would be talking to the man himself. However, talking to Sherlock about raising his baby (hopefully with him) brought up the question that had been on John's mind since the wedding. He couldn't ask Sherlock to raise a baby, to make him a guardian of someone he already cared for so much if Rosamund would leave one day. It wasn't right. Sure, Mycroft could probably pull some strings but that wouldn't be fair to Rosie's actual father (assuming said man wasn't John)._

_John found shelter under an awning and allowed the dog to wrap the lead around his legs. The blond took out his mobile and called Mycroft. Mike was nice but even though Mike already knew John's suspicions and they had a plan John couldn't place his friend in that position now that he was thinking clearly. Mycroft could be trusted not to lie and probably had already done the test. If Rosie wasn't John's Mycroft would be John's best bet to come up with a solution that wouldn't emotionally scar Sherlock. Plus John could ask about Sherlock's physical scars. The elder brother was the one who brought Sherlock back; he had to know what happened._

\----A Week Later----

_"Doctor Watson I'm sure you're aware I've already run the tests but I think it would be better if you watched the procedure so you know the outcome and that there were no mistakes made. I will send my personal doctor to attend to this matter. I assure you you're in the best hands."_

\----

A black car pulled up and John hopped in.

"You really should check who is inside you know. I understand you've been kidnapped this way before."

John jumped in surprise, "Molly?"

"I'm to do the test." She smiled a new smile at John. It suited her.

The blond wondered why he never considered her to run the test. It was obvious, really. Sherlock cared about her so she was under Mycroft's protection. Why shouldn't she do the test? Hell, she'd probably be more honest and less of a manipulative prick about the whole thing if Rosie turned out to be someone else's.

"I take it you're surprised." Molly said flatly when John was quiet for a moment too long.

"Just didn't expect you to be in one of Mycroft's cars is all." John lied.

Molly shook her head. "You really are a _horrible_ liar."

"Sorry, I just don't really-"

"See me as a person? Yes, that happens a lot." She snarled at him.

John knew he'd messed up but he wasn't sure how. Molly was usually a lot more easy going and accommodating. "If you're busy I can do the test myself..." John tried, thinking maybe she was doing something important for Mycroft and upset she'd been pulled away for something so menial.

"I'm sure you can, after a few tries. I'm not sure you'd be able to work the equipment we have after being out of the field for so long."

"Hey now, I'm still a doctor."

"Oh, please. You fix the sniffles. When was the last time you've run a DNA test?"

John pursed his lips. Sure, what she said was true, but it still rankled. "Never." He admitted. If he was supposed to run one in uni he'd skipped that day.

"Well, this is going to be complicated and you'd never do it right. We don't have an infinite number of samples and you will just think you'd run the test wrong."

"Why?" John asked. He felt chilled, even though he suspected he wasn't the father he _believed_ he was. He just didn't know that until just now.

"You'll see." Molly said cryptically.

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence.

\----

"Why are we here?" John asked as Molly just got out of the car and waited by the gate.

"Because we need some of Mary's DNA." She answered when he joined her.

Oh, god. John suspected he knew where this was going and Mycroft was right, he did need to see the test run.

\----

The blond paced as he waited by the machine. Molly ignored him and spent all her time on her phone. Huffing at incoming messages but never replying. Finally her phone rang and she took the call into the hall.

After a few shouts and the sound of a mobile shattering Molly returned and asked to borrow John's phone.

John didn't want his phone broken but he remembered Sherlock's black eye and handed it over without protest.

"My, I need a new mobile."

The short man felt like his eyes were about to fall out of his head and the world had tilted on its axis.

"Thanks, hon." She ended the call and handed John's phone back with an innocent smile.

John was terrified.

\----

At worst the blond doctor thought that maybe Mary stole the child from the hospital and had never been pregnant at all. Unlikely, he was a doctor. But possible. Of course, John was wrong. John was always wrong.

Mary wasn't the mother. John was the father but Mary wasn't the mother. She'd had in vitro done and John never noticed. However, the biological mother was dead so there were no concerns about a woman showing up and demanding Rosie. There was just one problem...

\----

_"Who is she, Mycroft?"_

_"Our sister."_

_"Sherlock doesn't have any sisters. Only brothers and Sherrinford is dead. So what the hell do you think you're playing at?!"_

_"It would be best if Sherlock told you."_

_"Wha-"_

_The line went dead._

\----

Said mother was Sherlock's sister. 

When John returned this time he didn't remember anything Molly said. He didn't remember getting in the black car. He didn't remember the ride back.

The only thing John could think was that Sherlock only had brothers. So, why was there suddenly a sister? And what happened to her?

"John?"

Apparently John had walked up the seventeen steps in the same fog. "Sorry... I..." He fell sideways into the wall.

Sherlock caught him before he slid onto the floor.

"Are you alright?"

'Yes, but you won't be.' John thought. This would be the final straw. Sherlock hated his brother for what he did to their sister (and Mycroft wouldn't tell John what, exactly, that was). The doctor really didn't have the heart to talk about it.

"Come here. Are you alright?"

John knew then, that Sherlock had no idea why the blond was upset. The consulting detective probably had no idea his sister had ever donated eggs let alone had them stolen. And if he didn't know that he wouldn't know that Mary carried the child and said child was living in their flat now.

In a twisted way John was thrilled. It was wrong, so wrong but there was a part of Sherlock in the baby and a part of John and he couldn't think of anything better. He loved Mary, he did. And he wasn't done grieving for her. But John didn't love her the way he loved the man helping him up the steps to his bedroom.

Once they were through the door John threw Sherlock onto his bed. The consulting detective was caught off guard but it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going to happen next.

John flung himself at the other man and started kissing him desperately.


	8. About Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter of smut y'all have been waiting for since part 3. Remember, if you want to read the story without the adult parts you can find me on fanfiction.net

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: [Imagine Person A’s dog walking in on your OTP making out.](https://gizmotrinket.tumblr.com/post/157814360657/otp-imagines-cult-imagine-person-as-dog-walking) Obviously I will modify it a bit. ;)
> 
> Warnings: Oral sex, anal sex, safe sex.

++++

"Oh, John!" Sherlock gasped when the blond started palming him through his trousers. Sherlock looked at John like he was the sun and Sherlock never expected to be lucky enough make it through the night to ever see him again.

John slowed and started kissing the brunette tenderly. John carefully adjusted his position so Sherlock could rut against his thigh if he wanted to (he did). While they snogged Sherlock moved back until he was entirely on the bed and John followed. Lips chasing lips with small pecks, tiny bites and tender caresses. It had been an emotionally draining day.

"God, I love you." John sighed into Sherlock's mouth when they broke apart to breathe.

"I love you too John." Sherlock's eyes were watery but neither of them mentioned it because John's were too.

John leaned back on his knees between Sherlock's legs and kissed Sherlock's knuckles as the blond slowly undid the buttons to the brunette's cuffs.

"John." Sherlock's chin twitched as he whispered the other man's name.

John started undoing the buttons down the front of Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock pulled John into another kiss and they tangled tongues. Sherlock flipped them so he was on top and he ground their hips together. "I love you, I love you. God John, I love you so much." He chanted every time they broke apart.

John worked Sherlock's buttons until he could slide his arms around his friend, best friend turned lover. He felt the scars littering the brunette's back and Sherlock froze, worried John would stop or ask him about them. John did neither he just analyzed by feel. He knew Sherlock would tell him one day when he was ready. John knew he didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve Sherlock. The man who had a huge heart. The man who cared so much but always kept it hidden. John might have trust issues but Sherlock had more. Based on the small amount of Sherlock's life he'd witnessed the man had good reason.

Soon Sherlock's shoes, socks and trousers were off, just leaving tented pants. John was in the same condition. Sherlock stood to grab a condom from the bedside drawer (John wanted to ask if Sherlock had been rummaging around up here again but didn't) when some jangling interrupted.

The dog walked in and panted, smiling at them.

"Gladstone, out." Sherlock waved his hand at the door.

"Gladstone?" John asked.

"Yes, John. We have a new pet."

John shrugged. He knew the dog must have a microchip. He would take the little beast to the vet and make sure the owner didn't want him back.

"Gladstone, out!" The brunette man waved his hand again, this time with more force.

The dog glared at Sherlock but left.

Sherlock closed the door.

They'd gone and gotten a baby monitor four pack so they didn't have to worry about running and grabbing one every time they left a room. Mrs. Hudson even had one, just in case. They'd rely on that one tonight (at least until they'd finished).

John opened his arms when Sherlock turned around and Sherlock smiled softly, the tender look reaching his eyes. The expression as unfamiliar as it was welcome. It suited him. He looked blissfully happy. John vowed to do things to have that look on his lover's face every day.

Sherlock came to the blond, reaching out for him and they hugged. Sherlock turned the hug into something less intimate by licking John's neck. Seeking out all those spots he'd previously discovered. This time he was gentle when he sucked small marks into John's skin. John didn't bruise easily but Sherlock was persistent, using every tool at his disposal. Rotating though licking, biting and sucking as he saw fit. The omnipotence would have been odd in someone else but John almost expected it from the hyper-observant man. Sherlock knew each time John needed him to be gentler or rougher, each time he needed Sherlock to move onto another spot. And his hands! They roamed, seeking spots around John's body. Discovering that John's nipples were too sensitive to do more than brush over, that John liked being played with through his pants, liked being played with when Sherlock freed his cock from his the confines even more.

"Fuck!" John arched off the bed as Sherlock's fingers did something he'd never felt before and had no idea how to replicate. He saw stars and it wasn't even an orgasm.

Sherlock rolled a condom on and started licking.

"Oh, oh, OH!"

The other man seemed to always know when to tighten his grip around the base, where to lick and how fucking sexy it was when he hollowed his cheeks and looked into John's eyes.

"Fuck! God, Sher-ah-lock!" John resisted putting his hand on the brunette's head, it would be too much for his self control to not just push him down and start choking him.

Sherlock couldn't get all of John's penis in his mouth but that was ok, John hadn't had a lover who could yet and the top part was the most sensitive part anyway. However, it seemed to be frustrating the brunette. After a moment Sherlock pulled off and panted, working his jaw.

"Sorry."

Sherlock looked appalled. "For what?"

"I know I'm a little-"

"Little isn't the correct word here, John."

"Shut up you arse!" John chuckled awkwardly; he knew what the problem was.

But the younger of the pair's lips moved to the side as he stared at John's member. "I don't know; I wasn't expecting the girth."

John was intrigued. "Did you deduce my cock and get it wrong?"

"I'm never wrong, John. I just miss things sometimes."

John laughed at Sherlock's expression. "I love you, you arrogant prick." He started getting off the bed but a lithe arm wrapped around his waist stopping him. John turned back and Sherlock's expression was closed off and heartbreaking. "Hey, just going to clean up a little. I wasn't expecting this."

Sherlock's expression warmed and he nodded.

\----

When John returned from the loo he stood in the doorway mouth hanging open. "Oh!" he whispered, not wanting to interrupt.

Sherlock was on his back, head facing away from the door; his leg flung over the railing and held there by the bedpost with two of his long elegant fingers stuffed in his arse and was working them in and out with copious amounts of lube. As John watched Sherlock pulled them out, added more lube despite the fact that it was dripping out of him and started going for three. Whenever it started getting uncomfortable he would stop and move his hand expertly around his penis.

John's legs went weak.

Sherlock's cheeks were pink, his mouth was open and he was panting. He was simply pornographic.

If nothing else happened tonight John knew he'd be wanking to this for the rest of his life.

"You going to- ah! -just stand there or are- Oh!"

John nearly tripped on his way over. He had taken the other condom off but was quick about rolling a new one on after watching Sherlock's display. "How do you-?"

"Face to face." Sherlock answered before John could even finish his question. "Want to see you. Want-"

"Yes!" John wanted the same thing.

Sherlock put his leg down and slid up the bed. As John climbed up Sherlock opened his legs wide.

"Fuck." John muttered. He'd never had a lover he cared this much about. Or that was this bloody stunning. "You have to tell me if I hurt you." He said while applying some more lube to the condom.

Sherlock nodded eagerly and dismissively. "Yes, John I'm aware."

John lined up but paused.

"Please!"

"Sorry." John gave Sherlock's penis a few strokes and took a deep breath.

"John?" Sherlock sounded worried.

"Sorry. I've never..." When Sherlock still looked confused John continued. "...done this before." Not wanting to sound like he was too inadequate he continued. "I mean I've never topped. With a man. Or, well, had anal sex with a woman. Before."

"Well you won't now if you don't _get on with it_." Sherlock growled, impatient.

"Right. Sorry." John stroked himself a little back to full hardness and lined himself up. 'Ok, here goes everything.' He thought and prayed he wasn't going to ruin this by hurting the other man.

"Oooooohhhhh!" Sherlock threw his head back. "Jooooohnnn." He moaned.

John had to resist thrusting all the way in, putting Sherlock's legs over his shoulders and pounding his arse the three times it would take looking at the debauched brunette. He paused, allowing Sherlock time to adjust.

"MOVE!" Sherlock demanded, wrapping his legs around John's waist and trying to force John deeper.

"Demanding." John chastised but didn't deny him. He moved more slowly than the other man wanted. When he was about halfway into the tightest warmth he'd ever experienced Sherlock winced. John stopped and petted Sherlock's curls.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around his doctor and brought the man down for a kiss. They made out a little, being gentle with one another and Sherlock relaxed.

"Ok?" John asked for permission to start moving again. Sherlock nodded. John sat up a little and poured more lube so the next bit would be easier. "Sherlock." John breathed when he bottomed out.

"Oh." Sherlock sounded surprised.

"Sherlock?" John worried he'd done something wrong.

"No, you're fine. I just, it's different."

"Different?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. I've never done this with a person. I have a dildo, well a few but..."

"Really?" John was surprised. He figured Sherlock would have tried everything under the sun by now. If for no other reason than to learn and experiment.

Sherlock squeezed his thighs to remind John to move which John did, slowly. After a minute or so Sherlock said, "Never wanted- Ah! -to be this vulnerable beforennNNg!."

John smiled. He would bet Sherlock had no idea what he was saying at this point because the blond had just discovered the angle he needed to brush the brunette's prostate.

"Figured it be the same, or similar. The texture, with the condom." Sherlock interspersed the words with gasps and moans. He adjusted his hips a bit and nearly screamed.

"Fuck." John muttered and picked up the pace.

"I love you, John. I love you. You can't leave. Not again. Never again." Sherlock was leaking and it added to the tacky lubricant on his member.

John knew that would start hurting Sherlock soon, especially with the condom. He resolved to get them both tested as soon as he could. John's balls started smacking Sherlock's ass, making pornographic sounds and Sherlock arched his back. The brunette's penis was rubbing against John's stomach and the extra friction caused him to tighten. It was more than slightly painful, bordering on too much. But...

"...ahhAHHHHHHHHHaah!" The scream was silent at first but was ripped from the brunette halfway through and hurt John's ears.

Sherlock loosened a bit for just a moment when he took a breath and when Sherlock tightened again, another spurt of semen covering their stomachs John was ready. John bit Sherlock's shoulder as he tried to be quieter and wrapped his arms around his, best friend/flatmate/lover/ _everything_ and came too.

"Out." Sherlock demanded sleepily.

Even though John wasn't remotely soft yet he obeyed. Though, in an effort not to hurt Sherlock the doctor was probably a little slower than the consulting detective would have preferred.

Sherlock sat up, making a face.

"You ok?"

"Fine, just need to..." He waved a hand. "Clean up. A bit."

John smiled and watched Sherlock's butt wiggle as he grabbed a robe and left the room. The blond wiggled his toes, stretched and smiled.

Sherlock returned with a wet flannel and John cleaned himself up as the taller man curled himself around his lover.

"You ok?" John asked. He had to make sure.

"Mmm." Seeming to realize this wasn't an acceptable answer he said, "Fine. I'll be a little sore tomorrow. Worth it."

John took one look at his lover, completely at peace in a way John had never seen before and agreed.

++++

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally figured out how to check my subscriptions on this story. Wow, guys! I can't believe it. Thanks for the support! I have through chapter 11 written so the two a week updates will continue.


	9. Romantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is not accomplished in the art of pillow talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone go over to fanfiction.net and thank [MirrorFlower and DarkWind](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1227088/) for the help with this chapter.

As they lay on the bed, tangled in each other enjoying the afterglow Sherlock pecked a kiss into the crook of John's neck before nuzzling along John's jugular and falling asleep. It was early still but the blond turned up the volume on the baby monitor and fell asleep too; the taller man's hair tickling John's nose as he snuggled his lanky brilliant consulting detective.

\----

Crying woke the couple up. Sherlock was disoriented and John offered to go but Mrs. Hudson beat them both.

"Allow your fathers to sleep, dear. Goodness knows they need it after that." Then it sounded like she whispered directly into the monitor: "Congratulations you idiots. It's about time."

Sherlock was blushing from head to toe and John thought he honestly might die.

\----

_The blond opened the papers again, to see if the name magically had changed from Molly to Sherlock when a note fell out._

**_John,_ **

**_This is the second set of papers my brother ordered. Do try to remember your anniversary next time; it would save my assistant a considerable amount of paperwork._ **

**_Mycroft Holmes_ **

_It wasn't hard for John to figure out what Mycroft was alluding to. The question of Rosie's paternity felt like a noose ready to be tightened around John's neck, ruining everything._

\----

John cleared his throat. "Sherlock?" The man looked at him and John nearly lost his train of thought. 'How can one person be so bloody gorgeous?!' Sherlock's expression turned worried so John asked his question. "What happened to your sister?"

"SISTER?!" Sherlock hissed.

Suddenly it was clear John had somehow made a monumental mistake. Knowing the woman was dead John thought it would be better to just dive right in. Like pulling off a plaster.

"I don't have a _sister_." Sherlock spat the word like a curse.

"Right."

"What did Fatcroft say? Why did you ask that?!"

The warm fuzzies that were surrounding the couple suddenly froze and died. "Uh... Nothing really." John didn't want to say anything that would make this worse.

"Except that fat idiot said _sister_."

"Well, yeah. I know about Sherrinford. That he died. What happened to her? Why do-"

"John!" Sherlock looked like he'd been struck. More sombrely he added, "They're the same person."

"Oh." The doctor had to think about it for a second. "Oh!"

"Yes."

"Ohhhhh..." Of all the ways John thought this conversation would go he didn't think it would go this way. Now John had to explain and hopefully after he was done Sherlock wouldn't hate Rosie.

Sherlock started pacing. "Sister. He was always so horrible to him! I can't believe, even now... That... I'm going to kill him." He ranted. "John!" Sherlock turned and demanded, "Get me my harpoon!"

"You're not going to harpoon Mycroft."

"Then get me my gun!"

"Mrs. Hudson had to turn that over as evidence after she used it to kill Moran."

"He ruins everything!"

Trying to distract the genius John decided to try a pet name. "Sherl?"

"No. Sounds like Cheryl."

"Right." John was glad his lover had stopped ranting even if he was still pacing. Unsure how to approach the question John decided to just ask outright so there was no confusion. "Is there anything that would make you hate Rosie?"

Sherlock stopped in his tracks. "No." He said decidedly.

He was so firm John didn't think to question him. "I want you to be Rosie's Father. Too. I mean."

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"I... what?"

They looked at each other with matching expressions of horror.

John had intended to follow that up with a _but there's just one thing you need to know first._ 'Good job, Watson. You were clear a mud.'

It was obvious Sherlock's horror was of a different sort so John decided to shelve his problems and deal with the consulting detective's much bigger issue. This one could be a relationship ender if he played it wrong.

"Sherlock, you've said it before, I'm a romantic. If I were proposing to you you'd know it." John winced at the realization that he'd brought up Sherlock's best man's speech in the process.

"Yes, Mary said you were shaving when you threatened her with marriage. A story for the ages if I'd ever heard one."

Bugger. John decided to try and redirect. "I was asking if you wanted to adopt Rosie. You know, be more than just her guardian. But-"

"Why?"

"What?"

Sherlock looked frustrated. "Why me?"

"We've been over this."

"Why, John?" The brunette pleaded.

Wanting to explain it in a different way John decided to use logic. "Remember when I punched you earlier?"

"Yes."

"Well-"

"Yes, John." Sherlock said with finality.

John realized Sherlock had already understood what John intended to say ( _I punched you to prove that you'd protect her physically and kissed you to prove you'd protect her mentally_ which was only partially true) and was agreeing to adopt Rosie. "Yes?"

"For god sakes John!"

"Sorry." John couldn't stop grinning. Even when faced with the important bit of the conversation the smile didn't fade. "But, there's something you should know."

"It won't change my answer."

"It might."

Sherlock picked up his phone, texting and looking bored.

In a fit of pique John blurted, "She's Sherrinford's too."

The mobile clattered to the floor.

\----

\---

\----

"I'm not going to be your personal physician My." Molly frowned.

Mycroft's face moved slightly into his version of a pout.

"No! We're friends. I'm not going to work for you. Remember when you gave up and demanded that I be your assistant? This is the same thing!" Molly scolded. "And making me find out from John! That was just cruel. Do you have any idea what he was thinking?!"

"He's an idiot. The only reason we tolerate him is he's cute."

Molly giggled.

Donovan came up and handed Mycroft a file before turning and answering a phone.

"How's she working out?" Molly asked quietly. The diminutive doctor was worried that Sally was too opinionated to work for Mycroft and had only mentioned her when Mycroft said he needed someone with a backbone. Sally was smart, untrusting by nature and a hard worker. She also wasn't afraid to tell her boss off when it was warranted. Of course, there were a few talks about when it was appropriate for such conversations to occur.

"She's coming along nicely. She seems happy to get out of the Met. Said that she feels like she's doing important work now and not just fighting sexist pigs for credit."

Molly frowned. "Won't that be a problem? The dealing with sexist pigs?" In Mycroft's line of work it seemed likely that it would come up sooner rather than later.

" Aditi said it was worth it to get to travel."

"She chose Aditi?"

My smiled softly. "I found it appropriate."

Molly made a mental note to look up the meaning later. "I'm glad she's working out."

"Yes." Mycroft frowned. "Now, about your problem with Gregory..."

Molly prayed he had something good. Her boyfriend wasn't happy she was seeing Mycroft so often to begin with. Didn't buy the whole "friends theory" and he was really angry when Donovan left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double cliff hanger bwahahaha!
> 
> About Donovan's name: I had a lot of trouble choosing this one. I settled for Aditi because she's another goddess; this time mother to 33 sons (Mycroft's new employees and our loveable couple) instead of a jealous queen to a cheating husband and ruler of all the women. Like many other Hindu gods and goddesses, Aditi has a savari (a mount). Aditi flies across the boundless sky on a rooster. The rooster symbolizes strength and honour. I felt this appropriate because I feel instead of breaking down she learned from her mishap with Sherlock and vowed to live honourably from that point. (Not that her actions were really technically dishonourable, she believed she was acting for the best of mankind and used the proper channels to report the issue.) This is why Lestrade kept her on and Mycroft agreed to hire her. Plus she's always been a very strong woman. Her name means "boundless, entire" or "freedom, security" in Sanskrit. Freedom and security being extremely relevant to the job.  
> Sources: Wikipedia and http://www.behindthename.com/names/usage/mythology


	10. Showoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sex scene from Sherlock's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write this chapter as a confrontation about Sherlock's scars but I loathed it. So have some changed POV smut. Warnings: scar mention, safe sex, oral sex, anal sex.

++++

\----Sherlock POV----

Sherlock was thrown onto John's bed.

Wait, Sherlock thought, John had him on the bed. John was rubbing him through his trousers and he was responding.

John wanted to have sex!

The brunette was amazed. John had said he loved Sherlock, over and over but Sherlock didn't really believe him. The doctor had seen the scars, after all, and the reason John liked Sherlock was because he was attractive. Sherlock felt hideous now and yet John slid his leg between Sherlock's and encouraged each of Sherlock's thrusts. The brunette started to inch up the bed, panting whenever his doctor allowed him a breath between kisses.

John followed, kissing less enthusiastically and more tenderly. It seemed he'd had a trying day. "God, I love you." The blond said.

The consulting detective knew then that John wanted him on a long term basis and felt his heart radiate joy. "I love you too, John." Sherlock felt his eyes water and noticed John's were moister than normal.

The shorter of the two took his time, caressing and pecking kisses into Sherlock's skin as he carefully undressed the brunette.

Maybe, Sherlock thought, maybe if he was lucky this time John would stay. John would marry him. They'd be together forever, just as they were meant to be (nearly a decade late). "John." He whispered.

John started undoing the buttons down the front of Sherlock's shirt.

Terrified John would stop again Sherlock pulled his best friend into another kiss, wrapping his tongue around John's. Filled with a need to keep John with him Sherlock flipped them so he was on top. John slid his hands inside Sherlock's shirt and read the scars though his fingers. Burn, whip, pipe, broken rib, burn, knife... The list went on and on. John didn't shy away though and his continual touches were enough to pull Sherlock from the memories.

The blond started pulling off Sherlock's shirt and the taller man helped his blogger undress him. After a bit Sherlock decided John was wearing far too much clothing and started removing it. They both sat in tented pants staring into each other's eyes. Those eyes started to roam and John licked his lips.

Sherlock was grabbed a condom from the side table, carefully keeping his back out of sight from the doctor. Some jangling interrupted.

Gladstone panted happily, staring at the pair.

"Gladstone, out."

"Gladstone?" John asked, apparently he was out when Sherlock chose the name and told him.

"Yes, John we have a new pet."

The blond shrugged and didn't fight about the puppy's new name.

"Gladstone, out!" Sherlock demanded pointing because the dog didn't know the command yet.

The dog shot his master a glare but followed the order.

Sherlock shut the door after him to prevent a repeat performance from the attention starved pet. He froze, realizing he'd put his back to his doctor and turned, scared he'd see an expression of horror on John's face.

But wonderful, brilliant John was just waiting, he extended his arms welcomingly and Sherlock relaxed. John didn't think he was ugly, John still wanted him.

The brunette wrapped his arms around his flatmate turned lover and decided the hug was far too platonic. He started licking John's neck, seeking all the places the blond liked. The love bites Sherlock had left earlier had faded and even though the consulting detective knew the doctor had been teased couldn't resist putting them back. 'Mine, mine, mine.'

John could become over stimulated quickly because John was hard to mark.

Luckily Sherlock was up to the task. He made sure the blond was never overwhelmed or hurt. While his mouth was engaged Sherlock let his hands roam, tracing scars, moles, muscles and bones. John had lost weight, he was happy and working out properly again even though their diet left much to be desired. Deciding John was far too coherent Sherlock allowed his hand to travel south.

John arched and swore.

The brunette smirked and reached for the condom. He'd dreamt about this, he'd fantasised about this, he'd wanked to the mere idea of this.  Sherlock took his time, cursing the thin layer of latex for preventing the taste. Starting with licks Sherlock tested every sensitive spot he'd found with his hand.

"Oh, oh, OH!"

The brunette was loving this. He found that if he tightened his hand around the base it would prevent John's orgasm; that the blond's pupils would dilate if their eyes met; that the shorter man's eyelashes would flutter if Sherlock hollowed his checks and sucked hard.

"Fuck! God, Sher-ah-lock!" John rested his hand on Sherlock's head but didn't push down though he obviously wanted to.

Sherlock was slightly disappointed but decided it was better if their first time wasn't rough.

The consulting detective knew John was getting annoyed at Sherlock's frustration but the brunette couldn't help it. He wanted to take all of John in his mouth without choking but couldn't! No matter the angle, no matter how much he relaxed John was just too big. After a moment of particularly trying moves Sherlock pulled off. He panted and massaged his jaw.

John apologized.

Sherlock was appalled, "For what?" It was him that was the problem!

"I know I'm a little-"

Even though John didn't like it when Sherlock tried to be funny he couldn't help it, "Little isn't the correct work here, John."

"Shut up you arse!"

The brunette couldn't help but preen. John always used sexual terms to insult him. It was quite flattering. "I don't know;" He bit his lip, "I wasn't expecting the girth."

"Did you deduce my cock and get it wrong?" John sounded intrigued.

"I'm never wrong, John." Sherlock corrected. "I just miss things sometimes." He admitted.

John laughed.

Sherlock nearly sighed in happiness. He could listen to John laugh until the day he died and it would be enough.

"I love you, you arrogant prick." The blond sat up and started to move off the bed.

Panicking Sherlock tried to stop him. John wasn't going to stay! What had he done wrong? He blinked several times. John was going to leave and they might never get to this point again! That couldn't happen!

"Hey," John brushed his hand up and down Sherlock's arm soothingly. "just going to clean up a little. I wasn't expecting this."

The taller of the two allowed him to leave the bed knowing that his blogger was probably wasting time. Sherlock wanted this to be special. After Mycroft's comment and John's expression Sherlock decided he was far too old to be a virgin anymore so he'd gone out and fixed that. But there were still ways he only wanted and trusted John to touch him.

The blond put on his dressing gown and left.

Sherlock waited a moment to make sure John wasn't going to turn around then lubed up his fingers. John was large, nearly too big but he had a larger dildo he could take if he relaxed and prepared enough. The consulting detective knew the blond would be gone long enough for him to do this properly.

He angled his body so John would have a good view when he came back. Sherlock also pulled a pillow over with his clean hand and rested his head on it, that way John could see his face. He was fairly certain John had never had anal sex before and this would be special for him too. Since the brunette wasn't on his side it was a little difficult to gain entrance. He put his leg up on the baseboard and rested his shin against the bed post. John would like that too. It was a little easier then and Sherlock eased one finger in.

"Aaahhhh..." He moaned. This felt so good! He could never hit his prostate like this but it didn't matter, imagining John's prick breeching his hole in a few minutes was more than enough stimulation. Soon he had another finger in. Sherlock's hands weren't small and he took his time, scissoring and stretching. He was hoping he could get three by the time John came back.

"Oh!" John quietly gasped at Sherlock's display.

Blushing and without looking at his flatmate Sherlock removed his fingers and added more lube. One could never have too much lube and he really didn't want to injure himself now of all times. Feeling adequately prepared he called out for his John. "You just going to- ah!" he gasped, talking having an interesting effect on his arsehole, "-just stand there or are- Oh!" He managed to accidently brush his prostate somehow.

The blond rushed over, rolling on a new condom quickly.

They agreed face to face would be best. Sherlock knew this would put extra pressure on him but he couldn't bear to have sex with John and not see him. Plus, the scars. The brunette slid up the bed and opened his legs invitingly.

"You have to tell me if I hurt you."

Sherlock agreed dismissively. He'd have sex with John even if he wanted to burn him at this point.

John paused and the consulting detective knew it was nerves; the blond didn't want to hurt him. It was terribly sweet.

"Please!" He begged, he couldn't take it if John changed his mind.

John apologised and stroked the writhing man beneath him.

"John?" Sherlock was terrified the doctor was going to put a stop to this. That he'd changed his mind. That he didn't want the brunette after all.

"Sorry. I've never..." John paused, waiting for Sherlock to figure it out. But Sherlock had no idea what John would say next. "...done this before."

Sherlock sagged in relief.

"I mean I've never topped. With a man."

He'd been with other men? Who? When? Not Sholto...

"Or, well, had anal sex with a woman. Before."

Deciding being demanding would be the best option Sherlock growled at the doctor to get on with it. They were both getting soft and that was unacceptable!

John apologised again and lined up.

Sherlock exhaled and tried to relax.

The blond pushed the tip of his penis in.

It was _wonderful_. But John stopped. It was unacceptable! "MOVE!" Sherlock ordered.

"Demanding." John chastised but obeyed.

There was a drag and a pinch and Sherlock couldn't help but wince.

John noticed and instead of awkwardly staring while he paused the brilliant man petted Sherlock's curls.

The brunette loved having his scalp scratched and leaned into the sensation, encouraging the shorter man. It was too much, Sherlock was overwhelmed. He tilted his hips and brought John down for a kiss.

John was gentle and loving. "Ok?" He asked once Sherlock relaxed. When Sherlock nodded John added more lubricant and worked in, out, in, out, in, out until he was worked all the way in.

"Oh." 'He will stay.' Sherlock realized. 'He'll stay as long as you try.'

"Sherlock?"

He made an excuse, if John knew that Sherlock doubted him it'd probably be a bit not good. He admitted his inexperience (it was only fair since John shared first; plus it was nice that they were each other's firsts in a way) and watched as John's pupils dilated.

"Really?" John licked his lips.

Deciding John needed to move now the brunette squeezed John's hips.

In, out, push, glide.

It was heavenly. Sherlock canted his hips and John started brushing his prostate. Wanting, no, _needing_ more Sherlock adjusted the angle and nearly screamed.

John swore and started moving faster.

Sherlock knew he was talking but he had no idea what he was saying. He arched his back to change the angle and add friction to his penis.

Close, so close...

He saw stars, he opened his mouth to scream but it was too much and nothing came out for a moment. When his lungs unlocked the scream came, "aaaAHHHHHHHaah!"

John bit Sherlock's shoulder when he came, trying unsuccessfully to be quiet. They held each other for a moment.

"Out." The stretch was hurting him now and he was tired.

John obeyed albeit slowly.

Lube leaked out and when Sherlock sat up it was worse. He needed to clean up. He wiggled his hips, knowing John's eyes would be focused on his arse as he left the bed. He took John's dressing gown and went to the loo.

Feeling the need to take care of his lover Sherlock returned with a clean wet flannel. As John wiped himself clean Sherlock curled around him uncaring if anyone would tease him for cuddling. This was _John_.

"You ok?" The doctor asked.

"Mmm." The brunette responded. John was still tense so he added, "Fine. I'll be a little sore tomorrow. Worth it."

So sleepy. So happy.

Sherlock nuzzled his lover and pecked a kiss to his neck before succumbing to his drowsiness.

++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did my best to make this match John's POV. If you notice something please comment.


	11. Mycroft's Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about Sherrinford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, going to do alternating POV here because it gets a little complicated. Warnings for chapter: gender dysphoria (i.e. transphobia) in the 1980-90s and trans hate crimes. This chapter could be triggering so if you prefer not to read please leave a comment and I'll respond with a summary that (hopefully) won't be upsetting.

\----Sherlock's POV----

Sherlock thought it was impossible. Mary was absolutely pregnant there was no doubt about that. And Sherrinford died twenty years ago. So, how? "Obvious." The consulting detective muttered. Clearly Mycroft and Mummy had all decided to force Sherrinford to freeze eggs before undergoing the transition. Anger filled Sherlock in a way it hadn't since his teens now that he completely understood what happened to his brother. 'It would have been Mycroft's idea. Mycroft was supposed to protect him.' Sherlock thought. Of course, the clinic made sense now. The brunette thought it was happenstance; that Sherrinford was walking from someplace else and passing by the clinic.

"Sherlock?"

'It was _all_ Mycroft's fault!' Sherlock realized.

"Sherlock!" John's hands were shaking as he stroked him, trying to get him to exit his mind palace.

"Don't touch me!" Sherlock snapped. The sensations were warring, John touching him was good but the scars still hurt sometimes and he was anxious so no matter how gentle every caress felt like sandpaper. The hands touching him retreated and he calmed slightly.

"Sorry."

Sherlock ignored his lover. John's guilt was unwarranted and therefore irrelevant. Knowing the blond would only get more worked up the longer the consulting detective was unresponsive Sherlock decided he needed to do his thinking elsewhere. He picked up his phone, wrapped a sheet around his body (he knew John would want the dressing gown to get tea) and went to change. He wasn't sure what he was going to do to his brother when his suspicions were confirmed but maybe it was a good thing his gun was gone.

\----John's POV----

"Mycroft? He left! He's gone. He just changed and walked out the door without a word!" John could feel himself trembling. He was terrified this time Sherlock wouldn't come back. That Sherlock was heading to one of his boltholes and John would find him shooting up on another dirty mattress. Or he'd get the call that Sherlock overdosed again and he wouldn't be there to help. That they'd be too late. That their first time would be their last time. "Tell me you know where he is!"

"Relax, doctor. We have eyes on him and we know where he's going."

"Well?!" John demanded.

Rosie was crying but John ignored her. His chest hurt, Sherlock would know what the cry meant but John didn't. He'd have to check her diaper, tempt her with a bottle she didn't want before he guessed the right formula. Or maybe she just wanted her father. Sherlock was always more of a parent than John was. The two had bonded in a way John had avoided out of fear.

"What happened, exactly?"

"What the fuck do you care?! Just tell me where he's going so I can make sure he's ok!"

"It would be most helpful if you could tell me-"

"Either you don't know where he's gone to and you're lying or you're not going to tell me." John seethed. "Either way I'm not telling you a thing. You should have said something so I didn't make this an issue!"

"Ah, I was worried it was about Sherrinford."

"What the fuck happened to him, Mycroft?"

"Her." Mycroft corrected.

Mrs. Hudson entered the flat again, carrying her baby monitor. "John! Your daughter." She admonished.

"Not now, Mrs. Hudson."

"She suffered from an affliction called gender identity disorder. We were working on curing her-"

"It's gender dysphoria now you- Wait, what do you mean by _curing_?"

Mycroft paused, clearly uncomfortable. "At the time it was thought to be better to _dissuade_ a person than indulge-"

"Oh my god!" A multitude of horrors flashed before John's eyes.

"Yes, well." Mycroft cleared his throat. "When that didn't work we agreed to sex-reassignment surgery but we had some stipulations-"

"You're a monster."

"Please, John. Don't be dramatic."

"So was Sherlock the only one who was supportive?"

"Our Father was also too stupid to-"

"Right." John didn't think he could listen to any more of this. As it was he thought he might vomit. "Murder or suicide?"

"I was supposed to accompany her-"

"Him."

"-back from the clinic but I was called away. She-"

"He."

Mycroft huffed in irritation. "-was cornered by some street thugs and beaten to death. Among other things."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Yes, well. Her-"

"His."

"She hadn't had the surgery yet, John."

"Doesn't matter."

"In any case, the killers were never found. I never understood it. She was brilliant, beautiful and loving. Why would she want to make her life so difficult? In the end it got her killed."

John was positive he would have punched Mycroft right then if they'd been in the same room. In a flash of understanding John knew Sherlock was on his way to do just that. Or maybe more than that. "Oh, god. He's going to kill you."

"Don't be ridiculous, John. Sherlock is angry now but by the time he gets here he will have calmed down enough to listen to reason."

John disconnected the call and ran to save the only brother Sherlock had left (even though he wasn't sure the man really deserved it). Sherlock would go to jail and Rosie needed her father.

\----Sherlock POV----

Sherlock was shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He'd loved his oldest brother and Sherrinford was not only dead but _murdered_ when the consulting detective was sixteen. By the time his family told him the evidence was long gone and there was no hope of bringing the monsters to justice. Sherlock was well aware people liked to prey on those who were different but this was not another locker room beating.

All Mycroft, then twenty four, would say was to repeat what he said when Sherlock learned Redbeard wasn't sent to a farm. "All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage." The recently overdosed teenager had no idea it was all his remaining brother's fault.

Until now.

This time Sherlock was going to do something more productive than trying to escape through drugs and nearly killing himself. Murder was a much better option and _no one_ would catch him because this time there wouldn't be any witnesses.

\----John's POV----

John ran into the Diogenes club blowing past Wilder without a word. He checked the lobby then stormed to Mycroft's office. The blond threw the door open with a thud and ran headlong into Donovan.

"Watch it!"

"Sorry." John apologized reflexively. "Where is he?"

She drew herself up. "He left some time ago with Doctor Hooper. I'm to monitor the situation with the rest of the team. You're to join us."

John tilted his head. "Nope."

She rolled her eyes with a huff. "You're more of a pain then _he_ is aren't you? Fine. Once I figure out exactly where he went I'll call you. He was headed to My's house."

The blond doctor was taken aback. "My?" He was wondering when the world became crazy. First Molly now Sally.

She blushed slightly. "Mr. Holmes's house."

"Right."  There was an awkward pause while John tried to figure out what was going on. "So, you two are dating?"

"Of course not." She snapped. "I'm his new PA."

"I'm sure Greg loved that." The blond understood why he had missed calls from the DI now. He'd ignored them in favour of his own drama.

"That's not my problem. And you're to call me Aditi from now on."

John remembered he had better things to do. "Was Mycroft at his house when I called?"

"No." She responded. "He was here."

The doctor licked his lips in irritation. He thought it through logically, trying to think like his flatmate. 'Sherlock must have known Mycroft was here therefore he needed to draw his brother out. But he must have known his rat of a brother wouldn't go anywhere alone lest Sherlock break his arm. Mycroft brought a doctor with him so he must think Sherlock's in danger of relapsing but doesn't want anyone to know. Therefore Sherlock must have a bolt hole near Mycroft's house.' John recalled searching all over for the consulting detective when he ran off with a bullet hole in his chest. In a flash the short man suddenly remembered that Sherlock would never let John help him change during the months away from Mary. John thought the brunette had suddenly gotten shy even though he'd never had a problem strutting around the flat in naught but a sheet before. But now John knew his best friend was hiding his scars. The blond swallowed thickly and shook his head to clear the disturbing thought. The closest place he knew of was the one where Mary revealed herself. With a curt nod to Sally- no, Aditi now, he took his leave.

\----Sherlock's POV----

"Get out."

"The fuck you think you're- Oh!" Billy gasped in recognition. "Sorry Shezza. Didn't recognize you. Ain't seen you 'round much."

"I've better things to do than get high." Sherlock said honestly. 'Like revenge.' He added mentally.

"Yeah?"

"Who's injured?" The consulting detective knew he would need someone to distract either Molly or John.

"This girl here's got a nasty infection."

"Fantastic." Sherlock grinned at his luck.

Some of the homeless glared at him.

"Have her wait outside. A doctor will be here soon." Sherlock set about cleaning the place up so Mycroft wouldn't have any excuses for a counter argument.

\----

Sherlock waited in the dark. It was taking longer than he expected for Mycroft to arrive. There was an unknown variable and the consulting detective hated it. Finally a car door slammed.

Sounded like John arrived.

The brunette listened to the homeless woman confront the doctor and him send her to the nearest surgery with some money in the cab he just exited.

"Sherlock?" John called out.

At first Sherlock was annoyed that his plan didn't work. Without thought the taller of the two men responded immediately. He realized when John joined him he wasn't torn about the doctor's presence anymore. John should be with him, always. "Where's Rosie?"

"Uh..." John looked sheepish. "With Mrs. Hudson?"

"You're saying that like it's a question."

The door opened again and both men quieted.

\----John's POV----

"Sherlock?"

John went to step out of the shadows but Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder. The blond looked at his partner and frowned. John wanted to take a swing at the minor government pain in the arse but allowed Sherlock first crack at him.

"You were supposed to protect him."

"Yes." Mycroft replied.

"You failed."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was called away. There was an issue at work and I should have been back in time."

"So you decided to leave our venerable sibling alone to undergo an unnecessary procedure in a seedy part of town because you didn't want to be recognized. Were you ashamed to be seen with him?"

"Sherlock." The elder brother warned.

"Were you jealous because I liked him better? Were you upset because he didn't fit into your plan? Because you thought he was a _freak_? Because of the three of us our parents liked you least-"

"Enough!"

"You couldn't understand, could you? Having "everything" and being unhappy?" Without waiting for an answer he continued. "You were supposed to protect him Mycroft. That was the deal. But you failed. Like you have with me, over and over."

"Sherlock!"

"Because I'm different too, aren't I? I'm one of those _freaks_ you detest so-"

"You're not like _her_."

"No, I'm perfectly happy with my gender. I just prefer the same gender sexually. I've seen how that frustrates you. You think I should be like you: able to pick from both but choosing the "right side.""

John frowned, he remembered Mycroft telling him to pick a side when they first met. He'd thought the megalomaniac was referring to him or Sherlock. Now he understood. He wondered how many times Sherlock had been told John had picked women because he'd hit on Anthea. Was that why Sherlock had said he was asexual? Because of internal (and external due to the reptile in front of him) homophobia?

"You killed him." Sherlock accused with no emotion in his voice.

"No. It was just an unfortunate-"

"No." Sherlock tilted his head and his voice took on an ethereal quality John had always found creepy. "It's too convenient. You see, I've always wondered why he was in that part of town. Why none of those responsible were ever caught. Why it took so long for emergency services to make it to such a violent incident outside a clinic. Why you just happened to be gone."

"What are you implying?"

"Obvious. You had him killed."

"I would never."

"You had motive, means and opportunity."

John was rooted to the spot. His breath left him in a whoosh and his insides froze.

"You're allowing sentiment to cloud your judgement."

Sherlock snarled and leapt at his brother. Mycroft was slow to react and his head knocked into the wall as the younger tackled him.

John couldn't move.

The brunette punched his brother over and over.

When Mycroft's head hit against the floor again and he coughed up blood John could finally move. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pulled him off the prone man.

Sherlock struggled weakly without trying to fight his blogger. John held Sherlock as tears ran down the brunette's cheeks, John brushed the sweaty fringe from Sherlock's brow and held the lanky man as he turned and wept into the blond's shoulder.

"Shhh..." He soothed. He wanted to tell Sherlock it would all be ok. That everything would work out. That he was wrong, that Mycroft wasn't responsible for their brother's death. But he couldn't. In all likelihood Sherlock was right and Mycroft got rid of their sibling to help his career in politics. "Shhh... I'm here. I've got you."

"Why, why, why..." Sherlock chanted in between sobs.

Mycroft groaned and John ignored him. The doctor was happy the other man hadn't fought back or tried to defend himself but John worried what that meant. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialled for a cab and an ambulance in that order.

\----

Sherlock fell asleep in the taxi and John helped the exhausted man up the stairs. The shorter man didn't want the baby to wake her father before he'd had a chance to rest properly but he knew he'd never be able to take Sherlock safely up the stairs so he dropped Sherlock off in Rosie's room.

Before he could leave large hands gripped his jacket, pulling him into bed too. John was tired, both emotionally and physically. He'd been scared when Sherlock didn't want his touch. The blond thought the consulting detective hated him and their relationship was over before it began. Normally when the brunette was upset he chased John out of the flat though and it took Sherlock leaving for the doctor to understand.

John was observant, sometimes. He understood that Sherlock had moods where he couldn't stand anyone touching him. It happened when the consulting detective was under a lot of stress so the doctor didn't take it personally. John was one of the few people Sherlock let touch him in the first place. Right now the blond thought his lover was hovering on the edge of sleep so he just wrapped his arms around the other man. He wasn't sure if Sherlock would welcome soothing brushes right now or not. John figured if Sherlock wanted him there the brunette wouldn't mind being held. Each time Sherlock sniffled John gave him a comforting squeeze.

The door opened and John tensed.

"Sorry." Molly whispered. She'd come in to put Rosamund to bed for the night.

"What happened to Mrs. Hudson?" John whispered back.

"It's bridge night so she asked if I could watch her. I hadn't seen Rosie in ages so I agreed." Molly set the baby down in her cot. "What happened?"

"Mycroft killed my brother." Sherlock rasped.

John kissed the top of the brunette's curls and freed himself to get Sherlock a glass of water. He could hear the pair talking quietly behind him.

As the glass filled John blinked rapidly. "God." He whispered. 'Just when their relationship was starting to get better this had to happen.' John thought despondently. He waited until Molly left the room to move. She nodded a goodbye while wiping her eyes and John went to provide Sherlock with what little support he could.

\----

\---

\----

\----Lestrade's POV----

"I don't believe it." Molly said.

"I don't know Molls. It makes sense. Sherlock's never been able to solve this one. I'd always just assumed he was too close but..." Greg shrugged.

They poured over the file together each making arguments for or against before getting a board and diagramming every scrap of information they had.

After her sixth cup of coffee Molly won.

"It couldn't have been Mycroft. Too sloppy. But it wasn't thugs, too professional." Lestrade agreed. "But we'll never know what really happened, any new evidence was classified. We have this much only because Sherlock hid it here."

"There's only one person who knows what really happened."

"He'll never tell you anything." Greg said, wincing at the light coming in through the windows.

"He doesn't have to. He just has to agree with the accusation." Molly countered.

It took Lestrade longer to realize what she meant than it normally would have had he had any sleep. If Mycroft admitted to a murder he didn't commit then he felt guilty but hadn't planned it. "You're so smart sometimes it's scary."

Molly blushed, recognizing the words for the compliment they were meant to be.

"I'm sorry. I've been an ass." Greg said. "I know you're just friends and I have no right to be jealous. And Sally left on her own. I can't blame you for that." After a short pause he added, "Can't blame her either, really." He was thinking about the Waters gang bust when he left because Sherlock asked for help and Donovan didn't get any credit for all the hours they worked. Greg got some purely from his position but Sally's name was never mentioned.

"Thank you." She said, not waving the apology off with an excuse or dismissing her feelings like she would have in the past.

Greg found her new self confidence incredibly sexy. "Want to get some breakfast before you confront him?"

"No." Molly took out her phone and started texting. After a moment she looked up. "We could get dinner later, though. If you want." She brushed her hair behind her ear.

"Sounds good."

"I'll text you." The doctor said before leaving, her face buried in her phone.

"Morning boss. What's all this?"

Greg looked at the clock and groaned. He wondered if he'd be awake for dinner.

\----Mycroft's POV----

"Did you really kill him? Your brother?" Molly asked, a dark shadow across her features.

Mycroft thought about his response before nodding. He hadn't called the hit but he had left after getting the call that his family had been targeted. Instead of trusting those in the governments employ to take care of it and protect them he left his sister, no- brother, exposed so he could read the note himself and meet the threat head on. No, Mycroft didn't order the murder but he was responsible for it nonetheless. He wanted to step down afterwards. The risks didn't outweigh the rewards. But before he could Sherlock went missing and the civil servant feared the worst. He used every resource available to track down the teen and knew that was what saved his younger brother's life.

In order to fight the rumours that he couldn't be impartial he used the excuse that Sherlock could be used against them and was a national security risk. Mycroft promised to make the boy an agent as soon as he was old enough. Many on the board had seen the teen's observational skills first hand and agreed that Sherlock was better on their side. Several stints in rehab delayed the inevitable. By the time Sherlock was officially MI5 the rumours were quashed by Mycroft's cold response to the incident.

The older of the two remaining brothers had to repeat his words to Sherlock over and over until he could pretend to believe them. 'All lives end.' Some just sooner than others. 'All hearts are broken.' He'd meant it about his ex-boyfriend the first time. They'd just had a messy breakup and Mycroft understood that sentiment had clouded his judgement of the relationship and that's why the end had been such a surprise.

Decades later he'd still use his sibling's death as a reminder that he couldn't care about anyone, family or no. "You know what happened to the other one." Mycroft had caught those responsible and they'd met a terrible fate. Of course, no one knew that but him and a fresh faced Anthea. He had a reputation as a man of ice and it protected those around him as much as it pained him to maintain.

Molly gasped and blinked away tears.

Mycroft watched her leave without a trace of emotion on his battered face.

'Caring is not an advantage.' He reminded himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was concerned about adding a trans character to this story but I thought the benefits of representation, especially representation during the 1980-90s period which is not often spoken about (I find the argument that trans people are just a recent trend upsetting) was worth it. I can't find any numbers specifically for the UK about trans hate crimes today let alone from the 90s but they weren't (and still aren't) uncommon in the US. 
> 
> I'd love to know your feelings on this chapter good or bad. Please leave me a comment with your thoughts, anything I could improve on or things you'd like to see in the future. Or if I completely fucked something up. Those comments are very important. Thank you in advance.


	12. Switch it Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story would be so much shorter without the smut. Meh. *Posts another chapter of porn.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Rimming, fingering, anal sex and not so safe sex.

++++

\----Sherlock's POV----

John was growing agitated but Sherlock couldn't leave the flat; he had to protect Rosie. He spent his time teaching Gladstone new tricks. Gladstone was quite brilliant for a dog. But John was growing twitchy and snapped at the human genius of the flat several times.

It took Sherlock far longer than it should have to understand John was sexually frustrated. Wanking in the shower or bath didn't relieve John's stress the way it normally did. The taller of the two also noted the blond also woke up with an erection frequently.

So, one such morning Sherlock attacked.

It was awful! John had morning breath and Sherlock had to urinate. John laughed at Sherlock's expression when stubble scratched the brunette's lips and they agreed morning sex was sexier after Rosie had breakfast. Unfortunately, getting out of bed meant a delay that just kept getting longer. After breakfast came a nappy change and John demanded Sherlock _"eat_ _something for the love of god it has been days."_

"Oh!" Sherlock had a flash of inspiration when he was starting to get frustrated and he ran Rosie downstairs to Hudders's capable care.

When he returned he crowded John against the wall; hunching over so John didn't have to rise up on his toes. The shorter man chose to anyway, leaning into the kiss until it became something that could never be described as chaste. Sherlock undid John's button and zip and dropped to his knees. John's newly freed prick bouncing in his face.

"Condom!" John demanded; neither of them had been to the clinic yet.

Sherlock wrapped his hand around John's shaft and stroked it before licking a defiant strip from root to tip.

"Sherlock!" John gasped; part plea to continue, part request to stop and get a rubber.

The brunette frowned; he should have grabbed one before. He made a mental note to hide them around the flat. Knowing John would scold him if he continued the way he really wanted to Sherlock wrapped his large hands around his lover's hips and spun him so he was facing the door. John went willingly and Sherlock took that as encouragement. The taller man had never done this before but after reading some of the fanfiction written about them (which were brilliant until the author got some detail wrong and Sherlock was pulled out of his fantasy) he'd wanted to try it. He pulled John's cheeks apart and hesitated.

"Sherlock?" John sounded half terribly turned on and half scared.

The consulting detective decided the best way to see if John liked it was to just go for it without dancing around. He dragged his tongue over John's hole.

"Aaaahhh~ Fuck!"

'Well,' Sherlock smirked, 'that was encouraging.' He exposed his lover further and traced around the rim.

"Nngh!" John tried to stifle the noise by biting into his clothed arm.

The brunette decided to repeat that only this time so lightly it might tickle. John cried out so Sherlock alternated between clockwise, counter clockwise directly over, forceful, light and everything in between until John's legs were shaking and the blond was a sweaty, panting mess. The shorter man had loosened long ago and only now did Sherlock breech him with his tongue.

"Aah! Sher-Sherlock!" John's breath hitched when Sherlock pulled his tongue out and thrust in hard. "Oh, fuck this feels fantastic!"

The brunette's prick twitched in sympathy. "Bedroom!" He demanded, wiping saliva from his face.

John turned over and groaned at the scene the flushed consulting detective made. The blond's legs gave way and he slid down the door.

"C'mon, John!" Sherlock hopped up and pulled the shorter man to his feet.

John tucked himself into his pants and allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs; one hand holding up his trousers, one hand being pulled on by his pushy lover. He ended up on the bed with his arse in the air trying to stifle his moans into a pillow as Sherlock showed off an amazingly talented tongue. Shakily John moved up before pulling open a drawer and throwing a condom at Sherlock.

The brunette didn't stop his ministrations but they became less coordinated as he undid his trousers and freed his prick from his pants. He wanted to move down to John's testicles but decided to save that for later as he was already bent over too far to put on the latex barrier.

"Please! Sher-" John was clearly too desperate on to articulate Sherlock's name.

Sherlock ripped the package open and the bottle of lube hit him in the forehead.

John giggled. "Sorry."

Temporarily abandoning the condom Sherlock spilled cold lube over John's hole.

"Shit! I said sorry!"

It wasn't intended as a punishment, really. It was just that the brunette wanted this to last and John was nearly too far gone. Single-handedly Sherlock put the condom on and with the other he scooped some of the lube dripping down over John's testicles onto his finger and breached his lover.

John groaned in relief.

Sherlock shivered at the sound and decided to test John's prostate sensitivity. When the blond yelped Sherlock knew John wouldn't enjoy the same type of direct pounding the taller of the two did. Adding more lube Sherlock worked another finger in.

John arched his back and bit the pillow.

Contrary to some of the stories he'd read Sherlock was average sized. He wasn't self conscious about it and actually felt rather good about it now. He knew he wouldn't hurt John. And preparation could be minimal.

"For fuck's sake if you don't- Ahnng!"

Sherlock just ghosted over John's prostate and grinned wickedly at the result.

"Sherlock." John panted. "Sherlock, please. I'm begging you."

And fuck all if that wasn't sexy. Not wanted teasing to become torture (for either of them) Sherlock lined up and eased himself in.

++++


	13. Some Good News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear and hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a short chapter; I didn't want to leave y'all with such a depressing plot chapter for another week. Plus it works well with the even chapter I want to write ;)

\----John's POV----

Sherlock was in a sulk. Not his normal sulks where he just laid about on the couch in a sheet or ranted and raved across the flat with a harpoon because he was bored. This one was more insidious.

John tried to distract his partner with cases but even a ten couldn't motivate the consulting detective to leave the flat. Nor could running out of body parts to experiment on. Even running out of nappies couldn't get Sherlock out of 221B.

One day, two weeks into Sherlock's self-imposed imprisonment and nearly a month after the incident, John came home and the kitchen was clean. There weren't any mould cultures growing on old bread, no sticky notes warning John not to touch or eat something, all the experiments seemed to be disposed of. The microscope was gone and the only glassware John could find was for drinking, no beakers or test tubes anywhere.

"Sherlock?" John's voice broke.

"Hm?"

"What's going on?"

"Our life isn't conductive to raising a child. I'm fixing that."

The blond felt ill. "No. You're erasing yourself. Why?"

Naturally, Sherlock ignored John's question. "What happens when Rosie goes to school?"

It took John a moment to figure out what his paramour was talking about. "You don't want her to be different?"

The brunette didn't say anything, just stared into the empty fireplace.

"Sherlock, we're more than capable of protecting Rosie. And she's going to be different no matter how "normal" you try to act."

Multi-coloured eyes met John's. They were wide with alarm.

John smiled and walked over to the genius. "She's part me, yeah?"

Sherlock snorted and waved his arm dismissively. "Only idiots think you're normal. Given the general population if she turns out like you she'll be safe."

The doctor laughed bitterly before sobering. "She won't turn out like me. Thank god!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, reading the history John wasn't trying to hide. How John had developed his facade out of necessity to hide his home life."Yes, you're right." This seemed to trouble the brunette more.

John ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair gently. "Hey, it's going to be ok."

"No, it's not!" Sherlock turned his head so he was simultaneously leaning into John's touch and retreating. "What if Donovan calls social services? What if Mycroft tries to take her? She has the Holmes genes."

"What about it? Rosie's my daughter."

" _John_." Sherlock pleaded for the blond to understand without saying anything. When John just shook his head helplessly Sherlock's chin wavered and he looked away.

Rosie started crying and Sherlock fled.

\----

John's phone rang, it was Lestrade. "He's still not taking cases." John answered without bothering with a greeting.

"John? Hey, no. This isn't a case. I was just wondering if you could go out for a pint."

Gladstone wandered in and John patted the couch. Jumping on the furniture when invited was one of the tricks Sherlock taught the little dog to avoid boredom. Gladstone hopped up and John scratched behind his ears. The blond was happy his previous owner was dead (which was a bit not good) because it meant Sherlock didn't have to lose the sweet little creature.

"I don't know." John was sure there was nowhere safer for Rosie than 221B and Sherlock wouldn't ever harm her. But the doctor wasn't worried about his daughter.

"They'll be fine for a bit. This is important."

John sighed, cast one long glance at the bedroom and agreed.

"Mrs. Hudson?" John rapped his knuckles on 221A.

"John? What's happened?" Mrs. Hudson was as if not more worried about Sherlock than John was and she hadn't even seen the kitchen yet.

The blond winced. "Nothing like that. Greg needs to chat and I need you to keep an eye on them."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She whispered.

"No." John answered honestly.

Mrs. Hudson seemed to understand and patted him on the shoulder.

It took John forever to hail a cab.

\----

"It'd almost be better if he wasn't still having sex with me." John lamented. He could tell Greg was uncomfortable but couldn't help it. He didn't have any friends he could really talk to. "It's like he's terrified I'm going to leave him if he does anything wrong but at the same time trying to change everything about himself." John sighed. "I would say he's trying to change because he wants to be normal for me but I think he's smarter than that. It's Rosie."

"Rosie?" Greg seemed confused by the sudden subject change.

"Yeah, he's scared Mycroft's going to take her away if he's not perfect."

"Speaking about Mycroft..."

"What about him, Greg? I'm sure Molly told you everything."

"That's the thing though. We're convinced he didn't kill his brother we just need proof so Sherlock will too."

Hope blossomed in John's chest. "Are you serious?" The blond knew that Sherlock practically worshiped his older brother. They both just pretended they hated each other and the betrayal was killing the consulting detective. The younger trusted Mycroft with _everything_ and this shattered that.

"Yeah. Molly figured it all out. Mycroft feels responsible but he didn't do it. That's why he's acting like that. And you know how his job is, right?"

"No." John was never quite sure what it was that Mycroft did.

"Basically he's in charge of national security. He essentially has free reign over everything but he can only keep his post if he's completely impartial. Sa- Aditi told us." Greg was whispering now.

Feeling like they should change the subject in such a public place John asked, "So, how are you and Molly doing anyway?"

"God, John." Greg sat back. "She's amazing. You have no idea. She's so smart and loyal and hard working and in bed..." He blushed and stopped talking.

"Yeah, she's really something now that she's gotten over her crush on Sherlock."

"Before then even. She's really funny in this weird way that is so adorable and she's not squeamish at all. Like, I could always talk to her about everything, even over dinner without an appropriate conversation lecture. And she would give me suggestions on my cases without being a condescending arse. Sorry." The silver haired man winced. John waved it off and Greg continued. "And she's understanding about my job. She doesn't resent me and hold the long hours against me. If I have to cancel one of our dates she shrugs it off as long as I do the same." The detective took a long drink. "We had this huge fight because I was jealous of the time she spent hanging out with Mycroft."

John winced, remembering the other doctor shattering her cell phone when running the DNA test.

"Yeah. Well after I apologized she forgave me and _hasn't brought it up since._ " Greg looked stunned. "She hasn't held it against me or punished me for it or made any of those snide comments or anything."

John knew his friend was comparing Molly to his ex-wife. Still, "You've got it bad."

"I think I'm in love with her."

"Congratulations." The blond doctor was happy for them both. They were well suited for each other. A much more functional couple then him and Sherlock. John knew he didn't deserve the brilliant consulting detective after everything he'd put him through. He drank half his beer in one go.

The thought must have shown on his face because Greg said, "He wants you. He's only ever wanted you. Are you going to hold that against him forever?"

"I'm not-"

The silver haired man cut him off. "I did this with my ex-wife, you know. Instead of demanding respect I kept making excuses for her and blaming myself every time she had an affair."

"Not really seeing the similarities here."

"What I mean is, as long as I believed I didn't deserve her she took advantage of me and I resented her." He put his hands up. "I'm not saying that's going to happen to you but why not try to be the man he thinks you are?"

John looked down at his drink.

"Don't push him away anymore. Please." Greg said softly.

The doctor nodded.

"And don't talk to me about your sex life." The detective said to lighten the mood. "He's like a little brother and I _really_ don't want to think of him like that."

"Oh my god!" John groaned. "You know how he has an oral fixation?"

"Shut up!" Greg begged while laughing.

When they parted ways Greg promised someone would let John know when they found something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is starting to wind down. I'm going to try not to rush it but I'm so excited I'm actually going to finish something that isn't a one shot! You've no idea what a big deal this is for me.  
> Remember, if you find any typos, grammar problems or anything I don't have a beta so please tell me so I can fix them.
> 
> Also, on the things I read about writing people say they don't think you should use the character's name all the time but other people say they don't want to read "the blond" etc. all the time. Which do you prefer?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an even chapter and y'all know what that means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Military kink, submissive John, possessive Sherlock, edging, not exactly safe bdsm practices, restraints, rimming, oral sex, prostate massager, topping from the bottom, anal sex.

++++

\----Mixed POV----

They took turns topping. Sometimes because one of them was too sore, sometimes because one of them was in the mood.

That night John came home slightly drunk, hopeful and happy. As soon as he shut the door to the flat he was crowded up against it by six feet of lanky, angry consulting detective.

"Where were you?!" He demanded.

"Out with Greg."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You didn't tell me you were leaving. I turned around and you were gone! You weren't answering your phone! You're happy all of a sudden."

"Are you jealous?" John asked, incredulous.

"It took me this long to get you, John Hamish Watson. I'm not letting you go." The taller man shoved John against the door roughly, pinned his wrists over his head with one hand and started savagely biting bruises into John's neck.

'Holy fuck!' John whimpered and turned his head to give Sherlock better access. The older of the two didn't feel self conscious about the noises Sherlock wrung from him anymore. The other man was a force of nature outside and in the bedroom. He kept his hips away from John's and the blond rutted against thin air.

Seeing this the brunette undid John's zip and freed John's prick from his pants so the doctor couldn't even get the friction from the denims. Once Sherlock was completely satisfied John wouldn't be able to hide the marks scattered across his neck if he tried the consulting detective grabbed John's chin and forced their eyes to meet. "If you don't like anything we're doing you're to tell me immediately. Do you understand?"

John nodded.

"Say it."

"Yes."

"Yes, sir." Sherlock corrected.

John's eyes fluttered closed and he arched his back. "Yes, sir." He gasped.

Sherlock was pleased he discovered one of John's kinks. "Go upstairs, put on your uniform and wait for me. Do not touch yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The brunette released his partner, opened the door and with a swat to his bottom sent John on his way.

As John thundered up the stairs Sherlock went to Rosie and his room and said into the monitor, "Mrs. Hudson you're babysitting. And this won't be quiet." He heard the volume on her radio increase. Sherlock grabbed his riding crop, handcuffs he'd stolen from Lestrade, some other toys he'd acquired over time and John's dog tags (which he'd stolen ages ago). He took the stairs two at a time to go fulfil one of his fantasies.

John couldn't believe his luck. Sherlock wanted to be dominant in this scenario. He'd always pegged the brunette for more of a submissive. He figured the man must switch depending on his mood. That suited John just fine. He'd had partners who were always submissive and it was exhausting to always be planning the scenes. Plus Sherlock hadn't asked for a safe word. John liked that. He could say no or stop without having to remember some random word. He'd never been into the rape fantasy. Of course they should probably talk about limits before doing this but the element of danger made it hotter. Plus, he trusted Sherlock. (Not that that was a real excuse.)

The blond shucked everything he was wearing and dug around for his old uniforms. They didn't fit perfectly and he couldn't find his dog tags but he had a feeling the taller man wouldn't care. Deciding pants, socks and boots were unnecessary he sat back on his heels with his hands at the back of his head and eyes down.

"Parade rest, soldier. And eyes straight ahead."

"Yes, sir." John took a little longer than he felt he should have getting up. It made him feel old.

Sherlock didn't seem to care. He undid the blond's bottoms, letting them fall around his thighs and hummed approval at the lack of pants. "You have two choices." He said from behind. "You take ten from the riding crop for scaring me. I will not be gentle."

Not interested in that much pain so close to the beginning he asked, "Or, sir?"

"Or I edge you as many times in as many ways as I see fit. You will be a pleading sobbing mess before I allow you to orgasm, soldier."

John's knees went weak as his imagination ran wild. "Oh god! The second. Please. Sir."

Sherlock faced John, face twisted in wicked delight. "Did you know I took some blood while you were sleeping?"

"Sherlock." John said disapprovingly.

"Quiet." Sherlock barked.

John glared but kept his mouth shut.

"I did this because I was impatient. The results were delivered today. We're both clean."

The blond couldn't help but shiver in delight. Still, "That was a bit not good, Sherlock."

The taller man loomed over him. "Every time you fall out of character you add to your punishment."

John scowled.

Sherlock pulled the dog tags out of his pocket and put them around John's neck. He yanked down on them when John's eyes narrowed in anger.

The chain burned and John exhaled but didn't say anything.

"Good boy." Sherlock released the tags. "Do you have any problems with being restrained?"

"No, sir."

The pickpocket put the handcuffs around John's wrists, loose enough that John wouldn't injure himself too much if he moved but tight enough he couldn't get out of them. "That ok?"

"Yes, sir."

John felt his heart swell. Sherlock cared so much. This was going to be _fantastic_.

Sherlock dropped to his knees and swallowed John's prick down. He hollowed his cheeks and John's hips moved forward involuntarily. The consulting detective bit lightly in warning and John nodded in understanding. Sherlock bit a little harder.

"Sorry, sir!"

The brunette hummed his approval and John winced, already desperate to move. Sherlock dragged his tongue along the bottom of John's prick and John threw his head back. The man on his knees nipped the tip of John's cock. "You can make as much noise as you want but you are to keep your eyes on me."

"Yes, sir."

Sherlock rolled his talented tongue around John's shaft. He already knew all the blond's sensitive areas and John's legs started to shake. Sherlock's eyes rolled back in pleasure as he deep throated his partner and swallowed twice.

"Sher- Sherlock! I'm gonna-! Please!" John did _not_ want to come already.

Said man yanked on John's testicles roughly and the blond yelped.

The shorter man's legs gave out and he started to fall backwards, helpless with his hands restrained.

Luckily Sherlock predicted this and caught his lover. The taller of the two eased John to the floor. "Are you going to be a problem, solider? I can't be stopping my pleasure because you don't have control."

If this continued John knew he would come without permission in no time. "Yes, sir."

"Shame." Sherlock said, not looking at all displeased. He removed a cock ring from god knows where and rolled it down to the base of John's cock. "Is that ok?"

The restriction was painful but completely necessary. "Yes, sir."

The brunette decided to show his strength and picked his lover up, flipping him over so his arse was in the air and his face smashed into the carpet.

John couldn't move his legs up since they were caught up in fabric. Sherlock did it for him and the blond was left uncomfortable and completely exposed. He groaned in pleasure.

Sherlock had quickly developed an obsession with eating John's arsehole. (Not that John was complaining.) Instead of starting slowly and preventing the blond from becoming overwhelmed the talented genius dove right in, forcing his tongue through John's unloosened sphincter.

"Ahhh!" John slid forward.

The brunette pulled the comforter from the bed and wadded it up under John's face. The dominant man grabbed the other's hips so hard John knew he'd have bruises and dove back in. He licked, sucked and even bit until John was a quivering mess. Before the blond could beg to be taken Sherlock moved lower and started to torture the restrained man's overly sensitive testicles with sucking and licking.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" John panted when his partner moved back up and fucked the blond with his tongue. John's neck, arms, back and legs were screaming and he didn't care one whit because it was nothing compared to the pressure in his leaking prick.

Sherlock finally sat back on his knees. "Do you need something in you John?"

"Oh, god please! I need to come!"

"You need to come, what?"

"SIR! I need to come, sir!"

There was the squelching sound of lube. "I don't think you've been punished enough."

"Oh god!" John sobbed.

"Do you need to stop, soldier?"

"No, sir. I can take more."

"John." Sherlock said in warning.

"Please give me more, sir!" The request came out muffled by the comforter.

"I could never deny you."

John shouted as he was breached by a long curved vibrating plastic _thing_. It put pressure directly against his sensitive prostate (that was overly sensitive already). He screeched as the pressure increased when Sherlock pulled him up so he was on his knees.

"Too much?"

The blond could only shake his head with a sob. He was determined to follow through. He was in Afghanistan; he could take whatever his lover had planned for him.

Thankfully Sherlock let the inadequate response go. He moved around so he was holding John's head up by the sides of his face. "God, you're beautiful." He whispered. One handed Sherlock undid his zip.

He was still fully clothed and John realized he almost was too. It was obscene. The blond shivered and moaned.

Sherlock was still wearing pants and there was a wet spot on them. None too gently he shoved the shorter man's face to them.

John mouthed at Sherlock's prick through the expensive fabric moaning and desperately needing to feel his flesh. He'd never had direct skin contact before and the desire was more painful than his prick, which was leaking constantly. "Please." He rasped, mouth completely dry. "Please let me suck you. I need to. I need it."

The brunette yanked on John's hair wrenching a high pitched whine from the submissive. "Ask properly."

"Please, sir! Oh god!" John felt his eyes start to water as his partner forced his back to arch unnaturally.

Sherlock freed his erection, button still fastened. "I want to fuck your mouth. I want to choke you."

John shook his head as much as he could in the brunette's grip. He couldn't. Not the first time.

The consulting detective understood and held his lover up by his shoulders letting John take his time exploring. When lankly legs became weak he asked again. "Let me fuck your mouth, John."

The blond pulled off. "No. I don't-" Then he arched his back and shrieked because apparently the prostate massager in his arse was controlled with a remote. It was turned from low to what had to be the highest setting.

"I can't wait. I need to come. How do you want it?" Sherlock asked, easing John's head back down and undoing the handcuffs.

John heard the question from a distance but his arms ached. His paramour was massaging them as the blood returned and petting his back. But the vibrating didn't stop and John couldn't fall to the side now that his arms were free because Sherlock was caring for them. Tears ran down his face into the comforter.

"Shhhhh... I'm here." Sherlock said and the toy was turned to its lowest setting. "I'm here, John."

John let out a single sob.

"You done?"

"No." He croaked. He _needed_ to come.

"What do you need?"

"I need this fucking thing off my prick and you in my ass!"

As soon as he said it Sherlock was doing it.

The ring was removed and John nearly came right then. But the toy was removed. "Please, please!" John begged as his bottoms were thrown across the room and a pillow was shoved under his hips. There was cold lube at his entrance and then _finally_ Sherlock entered him.

"John." Sherlock whispered reverently.

"Fuck me!"

Hips snapped into the blond but not near fast or hard enough.

"I'm not gonna fucking break. Fuck me!"

John wanted to rise up on his arms to show his partner exactly what he needed but they hurt too much.

The observant man noticed and John's hips were pulled up. After no time at all the brunette savagely bit John's shoulder.

John nearly cried. He could feel Sherlock's prick stiffening in preparation to come but the shorter man wasn't there yet.

Suddenly they rolled so John was lying against Sherlock's chest and Sherlock was snapping up into John's body. A large calloused hand wrapped around the blond's painful cock, using only precome as lube.

It was _perfect_. John arched, screaming so loudly his throat would hurt for a week and he came so hard his semen arched over his head and hit Sherlock's cheek.

Now that he'd taken care of his partner Sherlock dug both his hands fingers around John's hips leaving more bruises as he arched, burying himself deep into his lover as he came.

John couldn't move if he wanted to. His back was pressing against the chest of his too thin paramour who must have been in pain lying with his back against the hard floor. Both of them had sweated through their clothes and John hoped he hadn't ruined one of Sherlock's favourite shirts like he most certainly had his trousers.

Sherlock's prick softened and slid out, covering his trousers and pants in even more fluids. "You ok?" He asked.

John nodded. "I think that was the best sex of my life."

"You're not sure?" The brunette teased. He was out of breath and John's weight wasn't helping anything.

The doctor was too tired to care. "Well... I'm not dead yet and next time it's my turn."

Sherlock moaned and his hips moved up feebly.

John was surprised that Sherlock would be so attentive in his after care and the blond was sure it was the reason he recovered so quickly. Still, Greg looked mortified the next time they met for a pint. John's wrists were rubbed raw, his neck was covered in love bites and his walk was stiff.

Not passing up an opportunity this good John sat down with a wince and rasped, "You're not getting your handcuffs back."

Greg spewed his drink all over the table.

++++

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI Mrs. Hudson took Rosie and they spent the night at Molly's house.


	15. Fears and Facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary's motivation.

\----Sherlock's POV----

John had a case. John had taken a case _without him!_ Sherlock was appalled. Sure, he hadn't agreed to take on any cases and hadn't left the flat in ages but still!

Sherlock thundered around the flat furious that John was hiding something from him. He kept going out with Lestrade too. They weren't having an affair or anything so pedestrian. No they were _working_. It was a juicy case and they hadn't said one word to him. They'd been doing this for ages too.

"Obvious!" Sherlock snarled one night. The reason they hadn't brought him in was because it was either about Mycroft or at Mycroft's request.

It was stupid to think people so close to him could do anything without Mycroft being aware.

Sherlock's chest hurt and he curled up on his chair with Rosie in his arms. He wanted to spend as much time with her as he could before John left and took his child with him. Not wanting to be left out Gladstone rested his head on Sherlock's knee. A little bit of juggling later and Sherlock could scratch behind the dog's ears as he held Rosamund. He wondered if they would take the dog too.

Maybe, if he was lucky, they'd send him on the short mission that was previously scrapped once everyone was gone.

\----John's POV----

John came home and found Sherlock asleep in his chair. He had Rosie snuggled against his chest and Gladstone was half stretched down the lanky leg but half curled up by Sherlock's hip. It was adorable and John couldn't help but snap a picture.

Looking down at the scene again some of the warmth drained from John's chest. Sherlock looked paler than he should. There were dark circles under his eyes and he held onto Rosie like someone was going to take her from him. The dog even looked like he was trying to provide comfort.

John knew the depression was getting worse, anyone with eyes could see it. And John knew he couldn't keep his lover away from his brother forever. The two needed each other. Aditi said her boss was eating too much and working too long. The stress Mycroft normally kept well hidden was now obvious to anyone. The other PAs and employees were starting to gossip and some members of the council  were shooting him worried looks. If this kept up he'd lose his job.

The blond had agreed with the others that they should keep both siblings in the dark until they could find enough proof to confront them. But now John was thinking that was stupid. Sherlock was irrationally jealous and possessive at the best of times and was also very insecure. The consulting detective was also very, _very_ observant.

John wasn't sure he'd ever know what was going through Sherlock's head. He frequently guessed and more often than not he was wrong. (Easy to do when your partner was wondering things like what the safest ratio of the most concentrated easily purchasable bleach was to make "safe" chloroform for the average adult male.) This time the shorter man was sure he knew he was right.

"Sherlock?" John asked. He nudged on the arm that wasn't cradling his daughter.

The brunette winced at the stiffness in his neck.

"Hey." The doctor said softly.

For a split second Sherlock's eyes widened in fear and he pulled Rosie away from her father.

John didn't want to attempt to put Rosie in her cot or do anything that might panic the taller man. Not having a plan or any other ideas John just dived right in. "We can't figure it out. We need you."

The response was immediate. "I'm not working for my brother."

"What?" It took John a bit but he worked out why Sherlock was thinking that. "Oh, no. We're not working with him."

"You're working with his PA."

"Yes. Sherlock we've got a lot of things sorted but we can't figure out why Mary did this." The blond neglected to add, 'Or who actually called the hit on your brother.'

"Obviously. You lot are idiots."

"Most everyone is." John said warmly. He understood Sherlock now and this wasn't an insult.

The brunette handed Rosie over and shooed Gladstone. John watched as the other man sat up, stretching only a little and entered his mind palace.

"Oh!" The blond heard from the bedroom.

John entered the living room. "Figure it out?"

"Obviously! C'mon, John. We have to go talk to Janine!"

"Wait, wait!" John called after Sherlock who was halfway down the stairs. "Mrs. Hudson is gone! We need a babysitter!"

"Bring her with us!"

"Then I have to put out the fire." They'd taken to lighting the fire whenever they could. Gladstone liked to curl up in front of it and Rosie liked to watch it. Since Sherlock hadn't bothered to leave the flat in ages it hadn't been a problem.

Sherlock made an impatient sound.

"Shut it. And go take a shower. You can't go out in your pyjama bottoms and no shoes." The taller man huffed but John didn't give him the chance to argue. "Go. It'll take that long for me to find someone."

\----

Since Molly, Lestrade and Aditi all wanted to go visit Janine (and Sherlock wouldn't trust Mycroft) Rosamund was taken in by Mike. The good natured doctor pulled John aside and congratulated him on working everything out. He'd heard about John's wife and expressed condolences but John waved them aside. "It's different than when _he_ died. I'm ok."

If Mike could see the sadness and guilt in the corners of John's eyes he didn't mention it.

\----Sherlock's POV----

"Sherlock." Janine purred. She went up for a kiss and Sherlock turned so she hit his cheek. "It's good to see you."

The consulting detective could feel John seethe and knew Janine could too. Sherlock cut off her little game. "Yes, yes. I'm a monster for playing with your affections. Now, shall we?"

She laughed and invited them in.

"You see," Janine said when they were all settled. "once my brother died everyone wanted to fight for the top spot but Sherlock was picking anyone off who made too bold a move."

"And Anthea was in the most power what with being Mycroft's right hand and Mary in second with her position with John but neither could make a move without being noticed. Plus neither wanted to hurt John. Mary had somehow heard about my brother and his eggs and decided to drive a wedge between Mycroft and myself using them." Sherlock said.

Janine smiled. "She heard about them from an old file Anthea kept just in case she needed blackmail. But then John here decided to call it quits with her and she needed to kill you before John was out of her reach forever."

"But Anthea couldn't have Mary sink her claws into John again. So instead of Mary being able to hire someone to kill me Anthea used the fact that no one knew her feelings for John to force Mary to pull the trigger."

"Of course. And as they focused on each other I was free to make my move."

"Since Mycroft and I were sufficiently distracted."

Lestrade cleared his throat and Sherlock looked up. He was leaning in toward Janine and they were smiling as they played verbal tennis. John was positively green with envy.

"So who killed Sherrinford then?" Molly said in an attempt to ease some tension.

Janine explained. "According to Anthea it was a group of terrorists that no longer exists. Mycroft hunted them down to the last man. She learned some very interesting interrogation techniques from the unofficial journey."

"I thought your brother hated legwork?" John asked.

"Yes. Doesn't mean he isn't good at it." Aditi said. When everyone's heads turned to her she blushed. "He's been training me. I'm supposed to be his body guard."

"He's too fat to train anyone properly." Sherlock scoffed.

John kicked his shin.

"I'll need all your files." Sherlock demanded.

"Yes, dear." Janine said mockingly.

"Why are you telling us all this?" Molly was clearly uncomfortable in Janine's presence so she cut into Sherlock and John's conversation.

The head of Moriarty smiled. "Sherlock and Mycroft need each other. As long as we're both under big brother's protection we're safe. Besides, it's always good to be owed a favour."

They finished their tea and John was made to carry the files. The group hadn't been there very long but no one was eager to stay.

They had taken two cars and Aditi pulled Sherlock aside while everyone was getting settled. "I never said I was sorry."

"You didn't have to."

She scowled at him. "Just because you know I'm sorry doesn't mean it doesn't need to be said."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. John said the same thing whenever he tried to convince Sherlock to apologize to Mrs. Hudson.

"Yeah, well. I didn't know that you were MI6-"

"I was only MI5 at the time. And I'm told that's kind of the point."

"Whatever. I had never met your brother either. I guess it was just difficult for me to understand-"

"You were jealous and you needed an excuse to vilify me."

"You're not an easy person to apologize to." Aditi said flatly.

Sherlock shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"I hate you." She said semi-joking.

"Good. It'd be off-putting if you were nice."

They smiled at each other.

"C'mon! It's going to take all night to get home!" John called.

After they'd been on the road a bit John asked, "So, are you and Dono- Aditi friends now?"

The brunette frowned. "I don't know."

"Was she mean?" John asked from the passenger seat.

"No. She wanted to apologize."

"Did you let her?"

"Mostly."

John giggled.

They had the car to themselves now. Greg had ridden there with them but wanted to go with Molly on the way back. Lestrade clearly couldn't stand to be in the same room with the two of them after some of the conversations John and Greg drunkenly had. Plus, even though he knew it was ridiculous Sherlock couldn't help but be overly territorial. John was _his_.

"The only friend I've ever had is you. We aren't friends anymore, are we?" Sherlock asked, feeling really self conscious. He'd done research and every site on internet all agreed that if you were confused about your relationship you had to ask your partner to know for sure.

"Sherlock..." John's brow furrowed. "You know that Greg and Molly are your friends too, right?"

The brunette mulled that over. It didn't seem right.

"And Mike? And Mrs. Hudson? Although she's more like family."

Sherlock hadn't had any experiences with people he called friends that turned out good. Except John. But they weren't friends anymore. Right? Most people who called themselves Sherlock's friends were like Sebastian, using him and laughing at him behind his back. Not wanting to think about those people Sherlock asked what John was avoiding. "Are we not friends anymore?"

"We're still friends. Best friends. We're just more now." John seemed hesitant to label anything. "Why don't you think they're friends?"

Not wanting to admit his failings too much Sherlock shrugged and kept his eyes on the road. Without even a glance over he said, "There's no quantifiable measurement for friendship. You said we were colleagues when we met Seb and-"

"Oh, god." John looked defeated. "Sorry about that Sher. I was mad at you-"

The taller man didn't want to hear why John was mad at him then. It had taken quite a while but he figured it out eventually. The blond didn't understand the cheque was for him. Plus, he messed up enough as is. "Why do you insist on pet names?"

"I don't know. I've just always had pet names for my lovers."

"Is that what we are?" It didn't sound right.

"I don't know if there's a word for what we are, Locky."

"God, no! John!"

The car swerved and John reached over to steady it."Eyes on the road!" He shouted while chuckling.

John spent the rest of the drive back picking out the worst pet names he could think of until they were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes and had to pull to the side so they wouldn't crash.

\----

Sherlock read the files and burned them so they couldn't be used against them. Sherlock informed his brother he was forgiven by sending a text ( _Aditi said you're getting fat. Stop eating cake. -SH_ ). John had to field a call from a furious PA slash bodyguard afterwards.

When John filed the official paperwork for Sherlock to adopt Rosie he modified some paperwork to have Mycroft be Rosie's guardian if anything were to happen to them. Sherlock was aware and had signed off on it.

\----

\---

\----

\----Irene's POV----

"I take it John still hasn't called?" She dropped her bag at the door and went over to the settee Harry was perched on.

Harry shook her head. "But look." She pointed her phone at her lover. "Sherlock sent some pictures."

They were all candid shots of John taking care of Rosie. One of him feeding her, one of them staring at the fire and one of them smiling at the camera. Sherlock must have taken that one while he was pretending to text.

"She's getting big." Irene remarked. She watched as Harry winced. "You should try harder then leaving two voicemails. Does he even know you're out of rehab?" The blonde shook her head. "Does he know we're dating?"

"Yeah, right!" Harry laughed. "That'd go over well. Johnny's always been a traditionalist-"

"He's raising a baby out of wedlock with his male flatmate and they're probably currently cuddling in the room his wife was murdered in." Irene said, raising an eyebrow at her girlfriend.

Harry squirmed. "Well, when you put it like _that_."

Irene pecked a kiss to Harry's forehead and went to start cleaning her tools. "How'd that job interview go?" She asked while her back was turned. It would shield her lover if it had gone poorly.

"They said they'd consider me. Normally I'd be bummed but this is a really good job so the probably have a million good applicants."

"Congratulations!"  Irene looked over her shoulder and grind lasciviously. "Sounds like you need a reward."

"Shower first!" Harry demanded. "I'll wait upstairs!"

Irene left what she could to soak and went to shower. She couldn't have hidden the bounce in her step if she tried.

Sometimes it wasn't punishment people needed. Oftentimes positive reinforcement worked so much better.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I made everything clear and tied up (almost) all the loose ends.


	16. Kicking Wardrobes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex epilogue. Sexilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: public sex.

++++

Both John and Sherlock were getting older. As time passed sex became less frequent. That was normal. It was also normal for sex to become less explosive and more of a simmer as the relationship aged.

Neither Sherlock nor John had ever been something as pedestrian as _normal._

_\----_ Mixed POV----

"Shhh!" John whispered. "We'll get caught!"

Sherlock muffled his moan against his coat clad arm.

The only lubrication they had was John's spit. They were stuffed into a wardrobe, Sherlock's trousers undone, his pants shoved under his prick. He was contorted uncomfortably but that didn't matter. John was on top of him, with his trousers around his knees, pants yanked down several inches and otherwise fully dressed. He had both their cocks in his hand and he rubbed them together. He tried to thrust to add extra friction but didn't have the room.

Sherlock tried to use his larger hands to help but John wouldn't let him. The brunette just had to lay there and take it. He bit his lip and tried to stay quiet.

Lestrade arrived but John didn't stop. He also didn't stop when the rest of the team arrived. They were well and truly trapped now.

"Close." John whispered into Sherlock's ear.

Not wanting to ruin another pair of trousers Sherlock yanked his scarf from his neck and used it to catch John's come.

The blond used the remains of his semen as lube as he pulled on Sherlock, determined to get him off. "Come Sherlock. Come for me."

"Nn!" Sherlock keened quietly as John moved his thumb over the brunette's slit.

"I've got all night. They'll search the place eventually." John tucked himself away one handed. He was unable to do his zip but he was covered. "Imagine them finding you, exposed, helpless and desperate. Me looming over you, still working my hand. I wouldn't stop until you came either."

"Nnn!" The trapped man whimpered.

"God you're gorgeous." John kissed his partner, nipping at his lip as he pulled away. "So brilliant."

Sherlock stiffened and spilled at the praise.

The shorter man cleaned his paramour up. "Your scarf is disgusting."

"This was your idea. You deal with it."

The wardrobe was kicked. "I swear to god! I should take you both into the station!" Lestrade hissed while keeping the door shut.

The consulting detective put himself away and John straightened himself out.

Greg yanked the door open and the couple fell onto the floor. "How can you do this to me?! How can you do this with a dead body in the room?! What the hell were you both thinking?!" Lestrade yelled quietly under his breath.

"There's a body?" Sherlock asked. "Where? There wasn't one earlier!" He went swanning off to see it.

"You know, I expect this from _him_. But you're supposed to-"

John blushed but defended his partner's honour. "It was me Greg."

"You're over forty!"

The blond shrugged.

"Not at my crime scenes anymore." After a moment the corner of Lestrade's mouth twitched up. "I thought you were finally out of the closet."

John glared at him. "When you do DNA testing you might want to steer them away from there, yeah?"

Greg buried his head in his hands. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"John! Come look at this!" Sherlock demanded.

"How did you guys not notice someone was getting murdered right in front of you?" Greg whispered before John could even step in the direction. "Especially Sherlock."

"I'm that good." John said with a wink.

"Obvious!" Sherlock said loudly, clearly having overheard their entire conversation.

\----

Before Lestrade retired he walked in on the couple in his office ( _"Oh, you're early."_ ), heard them twice in a NSY's janitor's closet and found them finishing up in a back alley to one of his crime scenes. Molly said she walked past a lab she was sure wasn't locked before they went in. Mike had to tell them off for breaking into a classroom and using it for a little bit of role-playing ( _"I didn't notice the new camera, John!"_ ).

In fact, the only places the two seemed to behave was when they thought Mycroft might see ( _"It's disgusting!"_ ) and at Sherlock's parent's house ( _"Mummy's as observant as we are and do you have any idea how traumatizing that is? It's an unspoken rule in the house that we all keep our pants on."_ ).

Just because the cases were less dangerous now didn't make them any less exciting and if there wasn't enough adrenaline for John to be satisfied the two always found new ways to get his heart rate up.

++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these all seem so random. I wanted to get all my little writings out because I'm not feeling this fandom anymore. :( Might be the depression but meh.


	17. Sherlock, John and Rosie (and Mrs. Hudson too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally make use of the prompt: Encounters with Santa and other things that may be better in theory. [Prompt 21:](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/roquentine19/153761991438) Encounters with Santa and other things that may be better in theory  
> 

John was frequently exhausted. Toddlers had far too much energy. And John thought Rosie was more of a handful because Sherlock was her father. Her favourite toys were Billy the skull and Gladstone. She learned all the tricks the dog knew simply by watching. John often felt guilty for telling his daughter to "Sit!" whenever she was wandering somewhere dangerous.

They still took on cases but they were more careful about the ones they selected and about calling for backup. Lestrade still yelled at them for being reckless but it was mostly for show.

Harry proposed to Irene after convincing John she was happy. Irene sat the doctor down and explained the drinking was under control and they'd never have the problems that drove Clara away. John still worried about Irene's profession but Sherlock told him to stay out of it. Irene and Harry were adults and John should try to be nice to his only remaining blood family.

\----

Rosie's first word was "Sher!" While John stared in shock his daughter turned to him and said, "John." Then pointed to her other dad, "Sher!" Making it clear she wanted her biological father to take her over to her other father. (It was the only nickname Sherlock ever truly tolerated.)

This event led to an argument about how a child shouldn't call her parents by their given names. Sherlock argued that it would be impossible for him to call John anything other than John as he'd been saying it for nearly a decade. John said other people would think it was strange. The consulting detective had built up an immunity to that argument by now and countered with a question, "Fine, John. Who should be "Dad?" Or "Daddy?" Or should one of us be "Father?"" John winced at all the options and decided that if Rosie had a problem calling them by their given names she'd decide who should be called what.

Molly was called "Molls" since Rosie heard Lestrade call her that often. John had to retrain Rosamund from calling Greg "Graham." ( _"It's funny, John!"_ ) John didn't bother dissuading Rosie from calling Mycroft "Mykie" because it was hilarious to watch his sour face every time she said it. It helped that the couple had Mummy on their side. As John's parents were dead Rosie only had one set of grandparents to call Grandma and Grandpa. She managed "Grandmummy and Graddada" though. No one knew where those names came from.

\----

A little after Rosie turned three Sherlock was alone on a case and took a two by four to his skull. The case was supposed to be simple and the consulting detective wasn't doing anything dangerous. It was completely unexpected. John scooped up his daughter when he got the call and demanded to see Sherlock as soon as he arrived. He was stymied at the front desk. John went a little over the top in his demands. He wasn't technically family and Mycroft hadn't heard yet. The minor government official was in an important meeting in a different country. John was Sherlock's emergency contact but Lestrade wasn't there and the staff wouldn't tell John anything other than "He'll be ok." and taking some basic information until Sherlock spoke with the police. The blond doctor heard "domestic violence" muttered by one of the nurses and wanted to kill them. Rosamund understood she was being kept away from "Her Sherlock." and was devastated when it was clear her cries wouldn't be answered. Before John got them into too much trouble by punching someone Greg came. As soon as Sherlock woke up John demanded the brunette man marry him.

Sherlock found it rather romantic even though everyone else scolded John.

John and Sherlock's rings were designed by the same jeweller that did Rosie's pendant but were made out of gold. (John would remain unaware they all contained tracking devices until Sherlock called Rosie home from Uni to change hers out.) Mummy settled the argument about big wedding vs small by demanding they hold "something worthy and proper to their relationship and the love it contained." Greg and Mycroft were the best men. John had to take Mycroft because Sherlock refused to. Everyone was glad to compromise to avoid a scene. Rosie was the flower girl. Angelo catered.

For a wedding gift Mycroft fixed 221C into a real lab. Sherlock had previously make-shifted the space but there was still mould on the walls, poor light and inadequate ventilation. The body parts still took up shelves on the fridge in 221B too as there wasn't another down there. After Mycroft was done the space was nicer than the lab at Bart's. There were several machines that took up too much space to go downstairs but Molly had no problems letting Sherlock loose on them. The younger brother grumbled about the gift but so little it was clear he was thrilled with it. Mycroft continued to use the cane-sword instead of an umbrella and no one mentioned it.

When Sherlock announced Molly's pregnancy it came out that the couple had been married since before John proposed. Sherlock sulked for a week at not noticing. Molly pulled John aside and apologized but she really didn't want Sherlock planning another wedding. The brunette went over the top and they wanted something low-key. The both wore their rings on chains around their necks to keep them safe and not bloody. John understood this because he frequently had to have his cleaned whenever he had to dig though mud (or, more often, things more disgusting than mud) for evidence.

\----

Far too soon it was time for Rosie to go to school. There she learned about Santa and even though Sherlock was against it John took her to meet one. They both had theories: John figured she'd demand to know why Santa never visited her before and Sherlock said she'd see through the falsehood and demand to leave before even sitting on the man's lap. The results were a bit different: she told Santa what she wanted for Christmas and told him that her parents would had already gotten her gifts. She asked if he could get her a hive of bees to study because her fathers wouldn't. He said he didn't think he could do that and in revenge she exposed the faker to all the other children in line by pulling down his beard and ripping off his hat causing a panic. John had a picture to commemorate the event.

When they were home John explained how what she did was "a bit not good." And when the taller man of the couple thought the blond was out of earshot Sherlock explained how she should have used the fact that she knew he was a fake to blackmail him into getting the bees. Rosie gave him a flat look and asked, "If he can't even get a real job how could he afford an entire hive of bees?" Sherlock laughed and John had to explain everything wrong with that. He started by explaining that he and Sherlock didn't have "real jobs." It was Mrs. Hudson who managed to impart morals onto Rosie with stories of how her fathers were heroes whenever she baby sat for a case.

\----

Knowing she could talk to Mrs. Hudson about anything Rosie asked why she had light brown hair even though Sherlock had dark brown and John was blond. She'd noticed when all the other children were dropped off they looked like one parent or the other. Or were adopted. But she had Sherlock's lips and John's eyes. Even though Mrs. Hudson knew she was being evasive she answered, "All the Holmes, that was Sherlock's last name before he married John, have darker hair and all the Watsons are blond. When you mix the two you get something in between. I don't know all about it. You'll have to ask John or Molls. They know about biology." Knowing if she left it there Rosie would be teased later she added. "Sherlock's sibling is your other biological parent." Rosamund decided Mrs. Hudson's knowledge was lacking and resolved to ask Molly later. Molly had to figure out how to simplify genetics so the child could understand and did an admirable job.

Rosie came to the doctor for other questions later and Molly continued to shine.

\----

The first assignment Rosie brought home was something she couldn't figure out. "I have to draw my family." She said. "But the teacher wouldn't elaborate and I'm confused."

Curious John and Sherlock asked her who she thought was family. Sherlock thought she'd draw her biological father and herself. John thought she'd want to draw him, Sherlock and everyone in his family and herself.

Rosie thought about it for a second. "Well, there's you. Sherlock and John." She wrote down their names on a piece of paper. "Gladstone, he's my brother." She declared. "Mrs. Hudson." The brought the tip of the pencil up to her mouth as she thought. "Uncle Mykie, Grandmummy, Grandada, Greg, Molls and baby Carlie." Rosie had decided she was responsible for Molly and Greg's daughter's growth and development and John thought the two girls would probably end up just like Mycroft and Sherlock. Rosie pouted. "Probably Auntie Harry and Auntie Irene too, huh? Even though we don't see them much." She added their names to the list. "Do I count Aditi? She always sends a card at Christmas and sometimes she watches me while Uncle Mykie works." She added the PA and looked over her list before nodding. "That's everyone you say is safe."

"I think that's too many people to fit on your paper." Sherlock said for lack of anything else. He and John were both stunned at how big their family was.

"Maybe just everyone who lives here." The little girl agreed.

"And maybe not Gladstone." John added. He got enough strange looks from other parents without his daughter announcing a dog was her brother. Even if it was as normal as having an imaginary friend.

"Sherlock, John" Rosie wrote out carefully. "and Rosie." She smiled at her penmanship. No one else in her class could write properly yet. "Oh! And Mrs. Hudson too." She rolled her eyes at her near mistake. Then Rosamund made John fetch her crayons and drew three stick figure people and a yellow smiley face behind them.

\----

Decades later Sherlock held John's hand on the sofa during a movie. The couple had retired to a cottage out of London to keep themselves out of trouble.

"It's strange." The greying brunette commented.

"Hm?" John asked, looking away from the latest James Bond.

"I had this theory that if I told you I loved you you'd leave. Or you'd stay and try to change me. Or we'd retire and I'd grow bored after a day."

"That's multiple theories." John pointed out.

"The results are much different." Sherlock said, completely ignoring him.

"And?"

"I'm happy."

"I'm happy too, Sherlock."

"You don't understand, John. I'd never been happy before you."

The retired doctor knew better than to argue. He understood that Sherlock meant in a relationship. Or probably in general outside of early childhood. After a moment John realized he felt the same. "Me too, Sherlock. Me too."

A log popped in the fireplace and Sherlock cuddled closer. Most of the clutter from 221B had followed the couple to their new dwelling. Some of it stayed behind. Rosie inherited the violin when Sherlock got arthritis and her son had adopted Billy the skull as his favourite baby toy. Much to her husband's dismay Rosie refused to put up new wallpaper the old flat so the bullet holes and smiley face remains. But the chairs came to the cottage as did the bull with the headphones. The drawing Rosie did was dog eared, worn and faded with time but was framed and displayed proudly next to a new smiley face in yellow spray paint on their cottage wall.

The couple shared a tender kiss before Sherlock couldn't help himself and explained exactly everything wrong with the movie and ruining the ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story kinda got away from me but it is finished and I want to thank you all for going on this journey with me. Comments/kudos are appreciated as are offers to beta. Or comments to improve it. This is the first long story I've finished and I'm exhausted. Check out my other stories if you liked this. :) *Wanders off to work on something else.*

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @gizmotrinket221 for Sherlock stuff. Find my writing Tumblr @theartone for updates on all my stories.


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